


Salvation

by SunnseanicArts



Series: Arrows and Bullets [2]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Angst, Brother Feels, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hallucinations, Love/Hate Relationship, M/M, Male Friendship, Nightmares, Suicide Attempt, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 00:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 40
Words: 135,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnseanicArts/pseuds/SunnseanicArts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*currrently being improved and revised a bit* He's nothing but a shady figure when they find him in the church. Alone, filthy, his body still alive but his eyes dead and haunted. Daryl thinks the guy is pathetic and a pain in the ass, but it's not like he has any say in this group of sissies. And on top of all that, this nutjob won't stop calling him Murphy! They take him in, let him stay with them on this godforsaken farm, and Daryl has to learn that maybe the guy isn't too bad after all. But with such a painful past torturing the Irishman every night, he isn't too sure if the guy's gonna make it anyway. The beginning of a love/hate friendship. Covers entire season 2 of the Walking Dead, but with Connor in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lonely Saint

**Author's Note:**

> **edit April 2017:**  
>  I'm currently doing a rewrite/ improvement run on this fic because most of the old chapters from 2012 annoy me. I managed to improve my English quite a bit compared to when I first published this fic, so I'm currently trying to get rid of some more grammatical errors and such. I'm still trying to get better anyway. I'll possibly delete some more  
> stuff too and replace it with more of my own writing because it's not exactly great how much dialogue from the episodes is still in here. So just a heads up.
> 
>  **currently improving chapter:** 15 (14/04/2017)
> 
> please note:  
> \- I am German. The English and accents in here are obviously not perfect  
> \- although I still continuously try to improve the chapters and get rid of typos and errors, there will still be some mistakes and the grammar might me off from time to time.  
> \- This is my very first fic  
> \- it was inspired by a fic called "Lost" which I loved, but it was so short that I decided to make it a whole lot longer.  
> \- this fic can be read as a standalone with its original ending which I kept, or as part of my Arrows and Bullets series that covers WD seasons 2-5A.  
> \- feel free to tell me what you liked or what you didn't like! I love reviews/comments!

   
  
cover by julie9r

 

 

* * *

 

They found him in a church. The irony. As if someone was mocking them. Reminding them of their silly society that was long since gone. Prayers, believing in gods no one had ever seen.

_No wonder most of them idiots are dead._

Daryl's father had always believed in god, too. Made all those speeches about the old man up there, interpreted his own distorted and questionable views into the bible, religion. Who ended up in hell, what happened to unworthy pieces of trash once they bit the dust. All that talk alone had made it pretty clear for Daryl that there certainly was _no_ such thing as god.  He didn't believe in any of the almighty and childish fairytale-like bullshit. He'd grown up relying on no one other than himself, learning to survive on his own. He'd grown up country. Field work, hunting, fending for himself instead praying, sitting around waiting for an invisible old fart - that's how he'd become the man he was now.

And that was the important part - _he_ was the one alive now.

He hardly saw a priest or saint anywhere now.

And yet, here he was. Running towards a church the moment the bells started ringing. Maybe there was someone alive ringing them, he thought, maybe Sophia was even ringing them herself. Maybe she was hiding in there, somewhere, waiting for them to rescue her.

Daryl really wanted to find that little girl.

When they kicked the door open they were greeted by the awful stench of rotting flesh. There were a couple of corpses lying on the ground with flies circling them and slowly tearing them apart. Each and every one of them had been killed by stabs to their heads, but they hadn't been human anymore anyway by the time they fallen dead to the ground - really dead this time. Just like the countless rotting _things_ they had seen during the past couple of weeks of all this madness each and every one of them had  bitemarks and other wounds to their bodies, suggesting that they had 'died' and come back before the stabs to their heads had happened. Not human or not, it was still a mess. The once oh so holy ground, carpet and floor boards were stained with dark brown drying blood.

Daryl didn't get the chance to observe much of the carnage, because that's when the whole group suddenly noticed some slight movement by the altar.

One of _them_ was actually _sitting_ there. On the ground, head bowed, gently swaying. Daryl even scoffed once, noticing that there was little to no difference between the reanimated dead that was in front of the altar here and all those brainless religious nutjobs who had once swarmed the place before this whole global breakdown thing had started in the first place. Maybe nothing too much had changed after all.

Daryl got moving just like the other two members of the scouting team, hatches and knives ready to stab as they approached the last remaining occupant of this church. But when they got closer they realized that something seemed... _wrong_.

He still wasn't moving. He wasn't groaning or smelling like all the other walkers. Although the stench in here was still disgusting – he wasn’t adding much to it. There certainly was no stench of rotting flesh and decay coming from the man himself, just the general smell of sweat and exhaustion they all carried under the hot Georgian summer sun.

Daryl frowned bit and looked back at the other corpses on the ground, figuring that maybe the guy really didn’t belong to this gang after all. Shane was just about to strike the kneeling figure down nevertheless, but Rick immediately grabbed his hand to stop him. It was then when Daryl heard it too. There weren't any groans or moans like they were used to hear from the geeks. They could hear a prayer. That man was alive and _praying._

Now that Daryl took a closer look at him he noticed that, although the man was covered in blood, his jeans and shirt weren't torn at all. His clothes were dirty and had some holes in them, but they didn't look like someone had been trying to tear him to shreds. The man was kneeling in front of the altar with his head down. His messy hair was covering his eyes and parts of his face and made it impossible for them to see him properly. But they didn’t need to see his face to figure out that the man was _alive_.

“Hello?” Rick tried to speak to him while he pressed Shane’s axe down.

No answer.

The man was alive and probably dumb as a freaking potato by the looks of it, Daryl thought angrily as he rubbed his mouth to get rid of his budding rage and the sweat on his face.

“Hey, are you alright? Did you take out these walkers? Are you hurt?” Rick tried again, but still. No answer.

“Hey, man, we’re talking to you” Shane said a moment later and walked forward to put a hand on the man’s shoulder to get him to turn around. It was then when the man _finally_ reacted, although not in a way they had expected him to.

Because he suddenly jumped to his feet, snapped out of his prayer, and then twirled around. He grabbed Shane’s arm at the same time in a fluent motion and twisted it around, tackling the other man until he hit the ground hard, took by surprise. He was pointing a gun right at Shane's face.

"Hey, calm down! We're not gonna hurt you!” Rick reacted on an instant and hurried towards the other two before the situation could escalate, managing to disarm the man. Daryl wanted to get into the scuffle, too, and he certainly moved a few steps towards them, but then quickly decided against it. Not just because it was obvious that the two sheriffs had the situation under control anyway with their training, but also because he fucking hated macho Shane anyway and he thought that it was a nice change to see the asshole in a headlock and not the other way round like when he’d been manhandled by him back at the quarry.

The man was fighting Shane violently as both policemen pressed him to the ground and told him to calm down and relax – until he eventually did as he was told and all fight left him just as suddenly as he had attacked Shane.

And Jesus, the guy really was a mess.

They could finally see his face, but it wasn’t like it was much of an improvement compared to the previous mop of hair face. Because even with the tangled ash blonde hair gone, the guy was sporting a short and equally messy beard as well. His face looked unhealthily haggard and sickly. There were deep and dark shadows under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t taken care of himself _at all_. Not in the slightest. Probably for _weeks_. He generally looked like _shit_. Especially since he was also grimacing and pulling that weird face under their harsh grip.

“Just calm down, relax. We’re not gonna hurt you. You weren’t answering, we saw you and assumed you were a walker” Rick explained, and just like before his soothing manner and general leader-like abilities seemed to do the trick. Shane searched the man for other weapons in the meantime and gasped a little when he saw the bandage around his left forearm.

"Holy shit, were you bit?" he asked in shock and quickly got rid of the bandage.

The confused look on Shane's face told them that there seemed to be nothing there.

Although still angered, the man finally seemed to decide that maybe they were worth reacting to.

"I ain't one of those things, and 'm not fuckin bit. Now put it back on and lemme go will ye? !" he answered with a thick Irish accent and tried to shake Shane off as he craned his neck to shot Rick an angry glare. All three men looked at him, flabbergasted. It certainly took them a moment to process the words, to place the accent.

Daryl was the first to scoff and shake his head angrily. Just great. Not just stupid, dumb looking and weird. Also Irish. Probably explained the whole weirdness and not responding and looking like a fucking hobo. The guy was probably shitfaced. Shitfaced and slowing their search for Sophia down with it. Shane even gave in to his weird demands and put the bandage back in place, wrapping it around his forearm once more.

"They let anyone in these days? No wonder the wackjob didn’t talk with that potato sniffin accent" Daryl murmured angrily and backed off.

He was pissed because Sophia wasn't there and he was pissed because he could’ve killed a survivor by accident instead – just because the guy hadn’t bothered answering.

It was then when the guy turned around and suddenly stared at Daryl, his face turning pale. This made the hunter feel even more uncomfortable. The Irish guy looked like a nutter with all his dirty clothes and kneeling in a church, praying, with those things outside and no backup, all on his own. He most certainly was some nutjob. Nutjobs always meant trouble. Weird Irish nutjobs who were staring at him like _that_ with wide crazy eyes _definitely_ meant trouble. _Well, shit._

Daryl glared back but backed off a bit, like a wary panther ready to defend himself. Three seconds and he already hated the wackjob and wished he had done it though. Killed him instead, even if he was a fellow survivor. At least that way, they could be back to looking for the girl by now instead of wasting time on him and his _staring_.

"Murph?" the man then whispered and continued to stare at Daryl.

"What did y'call me?" the hunter growled, still glaring right back.

The Irishman suddenly got back on his feet and sprinted towards Daryl. The hunter widened his eyes a little and flinched instinctively, trying to stay out of reach. When the guy was just about to come too close Daryl punched him in the face, once again purely on instinct, but entirely motivated anyway. He was shaking a bit but certainly tried to hide it. His heart was pounding in his chest in a perfect rhythm with the sudden pounding in his fist from the impact.

The man let out a single abrupt grunt, then fell to the ground only inches away from Daryl’s feet. Motionless. Unconscious. Knocked out cold from a single blow.

"Daryl!" Rick immediately protested and ran for the man. Shane just looked at his friend who knelt next to the Irishman as he checked whether the stranger was alright. Shane observed them for a moment, then looked up at Daryl. He then scratched his nose and shook his head with a smirk, obviously amused by the outcome.

"What? I ain't gonna let no nutjob come anywhere near me!" Daryl spat, defending himself. He was already fed up with the whole ‘always blame the redneck’ bullshit again.

"Just look at him! He surrendered, he’s in a bad shape and outnumbered. And you just punched him in the face!"

"Yeah, I'm gonna punch you next if yah won't stop ya deputy shit!" Daryl just growled. It made him furious how he was the one getting blamed for shit when the guy had just plain out tried to freaking attack him. But he wasn’t one to complain or address his problems and concerns, so he simply turned around and walked away with an angry huff.

"The girl ain't here. Let's leave. We ain’t got the time to look after another nutjob."

"Whoa" he heard Shane say somewhere behind him. A moment later Rick called after Daryl.

"What?!" he yelled because he could no longer control his anger, annoyance and frustration. _He just wanted to find that girl_. _Was that so hard to fucking understand?_ He still looked back and saw that Rick and Shane were kneeling next to the Irishman. They were holding a spare piece of paper which they had produced from the blonde's pockets.

"You better come back here and explain this to us" Rick said and Daryl growled.

"What? I told yah! The guy annoyed the crap outta me so I shut him up!"

"We’re talking about this, buddy" Shane said and held out the piece of paper for him.

Daryl came back to them grabbed the paper angrily. It was a picture of some men in a bar. The Irishman was there, grinning like an idiot and toasting the photographer. He looked very different in this picture. His hair was shorter and spiky, and there was no beard hiding his face. He looked like he had once taken great care of himself, maybe even styled his hair and trimmed his beard. He’d once been your typical pretty boy scumbag type. Probably got laid a lot, judging by that stupid smug look on his dumb face.

Daryl looked down at the man who was lying to his feet now, a pitiable, dirty shadow of his former self. He almost couldn’t even recognize him. Whatever had happened because of or next to the whole outbreak thing, shit had certainly taken its toll on him. When the hunter looked back at the picture he widened his eyes in surprise, because then he saw it, too. The most shocking thing about the picture was the guy who was standing next to the blonde, with one arm wrapped around the Irish guy's waist.

He looked _exactly_ like Daryl.

"Wanna explain it to us? Look, if it's one of your old buddies you had a fight with... that's fine, but at least tell us the truth. Gotta know who we’re dealing with here" Shane said as he searched the Irishman for any other weapons.

"In this world that we're living in, old stories don't matter any more Daryl. Friend or foe, every living person is a blessing these days..." Rick joined in.

The hunter frowned.

"What are ya talkin bout. This ain't me! I've never seen this clown in my life!"

Shane snorted.

"So what, you got a secret twin or something?"

Daryl glared at Shane and scoffed. He threw the picture right in his face and turned on his heels to get going again.

"I ain’t got time for this bullshit. We came here to find that little girl, not a freakin filthy leprechaun" Daryl spat, kicked one of the benches and stomped out of the church. Shane didn’t manage to catch the picture. Instead, it fell soundlessly to the ground close to the Irishman where his past self was grinning at the ceiling along with the man who was a perfect copy of Daryl Dixon. Frozen in time in a picture of nameless men in a bar.

* * *

 Connor woke up with a splitting headache and immediately let out a little woeful groan. His left temple pounded heavily. Not in the way he was used to from endless amounts of alcohol and hangovers, but a really _bad_ headache. The kind of headache you got from a hard punch, starvation, dehydration, crippling mental anguish and all these memories.

Memories.

His eyes snapped open the moment he remembered what had happened, _who_ he had seen. Just as abruptly as he had opened his eyes he almost immediately got back on his feet. Everything was spinning. His ears were ringing. He could hardly see a thing and he was close to fainting again but it didn’t matter. Because he’d seen _him_. He knew he’d deserved the punch. But none of it mattered anymore.

"Murph!" he immediately yelled with desperate urgency and tried to move. He didn’t even know where to but he still tried. That’s when there were all these hands all over him again, grabbing him, holding him back.

"Fuck off'n let me go!" he snapped, struggling, blinking, fighting, not just the hands but also unconsciousness. He was slowly panicking because he couldn’t believe it. _He’d seen **him**_.

"Easy! You just got knocked out cold!" he heard someone say and recognized it as the voice of the man with the sheriff's hat. Probably a policeman or whatever. He didn’t care. Nothing mattered right now other than his quest.

"No, I've seen 'im, now where's he? Murphy!"

"There's no Murphy here. Just me, Rick, Daryl and a few other survivors" the other man said and Connor looked up and scoffed. He couldn’t believe how dumb they were. How dare them suggest that he _wasn’t_ here? They didn’t even know him. Murphy was his fucking _twin_ brother. Of course he knew him when he saw him.

"What are ye talking bout, af course he's here, I've seen him!"

"Who are you?" the guy called Rick asked instead and Connor tried to sit up.

"It’s Connor, alright. Connor MacManus, pleased ta fuckin meetcha. Now where te hell's m'brother."

"You mean the guy from the photograph? We don't know. You were all alone in here" the other man called Shane said and turned his head a little to let his gaze wander. "But we got a redneck with us who, I gotta admit, looks pretty much like that Murphy of yours."

Connor frowned a little, confused at the mention that he’d been found here alone. But then it was slowly creeping up on him again. That crippling feeling in his gut, the gnawing and scratching at his mind, the memories that were buried there. The  _real_ memories. He closed his eyes for a moment and then tried to get up slowly, rubbing his temple as his head still hurt from the punch.

"Right.." he muttered and everything started spinning again.

They immediately grabbed him by his arms again and this time he wouldn’t fight them. Instead, he let them help him to the nearest bench so he could sit down. The Irishman buried his face in his hands and groaned softly, because now not just the headache was causing him trouble, but also the reminders.

"So are you all on your own? Or have you been with group but got left behind or something?" the man called Shane asked.

Connor shook his head gently.

"Just me" he said, swallowing bitterly.

"And how come you come all the way from Ireland?"

The Irishman looked up at this and gave him an annoyed frown.

"Came 'ere years ago. Used ta live in Boston til fuckin Apocalypse, now."

"What is it now? We haven't got much time you morons. Stop petting the leprechaun and move!" they heard Daryl shout from the entrance and all three men turned their heads to face him. Especially Connor reacted. He just kept staring at him, which made Daryl feel weird all over again. The staring never stopped with the guy. It was freaking _creepy_ and annoyed the shit out of him. And when Daryl saw how the man mouthed “Murph” yet _again,_ he flipped once more.

"Let's go!" he yelled, turned around and went back outside again, but not without angrily but subtlety kicking the door out of his way. Rick turn towards Shane and gave him a long meaningful look while Connor simply continued to stare after Daryl with wide eyes. Shane looked surprised at first, looked back at Connor and shook his head slightly, but when Rick continued to stare at his friend Shane simply scoffed and threw his hands up in the air.

Rick turned towards Connor then and made him look at him.

"You should come with us until your head's better again. It’s our fault you got hurt " he said and his friend rolled his eyes.

"God, here we go again."

Connor just looked at Rick for a while, observed the man head to toe with a weary look, but deep down he already knew that the man was the proper deal, a real cop. His gut feeling told him that he could trust the man. The Irishman continued to just sit and stare at him for a moment, then he looked back at the corpses on the ground, the altar. He knew they were probably good men, okay, and this was exactly the point.

This was not why he had come here. Stayed here.

“You're safer within a group. At least for now” the sheriff named Rick told him, and Connor scoffed gently, still holding his aching head.

This wasn't why he had come here, but he'd made a promise.

He eventually let out a soft sigh and nodded.

"Thank you" he murmured.

Then he finally tried to get up with a grunt.

Both policemen tried to help him, but he just shook them off. He was pissed enough at them because they had come in here. Interrupted his plans.

He went back to the place where he had put his bag and everything else. He noticed the picture on the ground and felt his body tense, his lips forming an even thinner, much paler line. He eventually quickly leaned down to take it back without looking at it, stuffed it in his back pocket and battled the dizziness all over again. He shot a final look at the cross on the wall, considering for a moment to just fuck it all and tell them to leave so he could pull it through. But the statue was staring right back at him. Judging him. Reminding him of the promise. He fought his inner battle for a moment, then he finally grabbed the rest of his things, turned on his heels, and followed the small group outside.

 


	2. Prayers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** The Walking Dead S02 episode 1 " _What Lies Ahead_ " and episode 2 " _Bloodletting_ "

Rick and Shane were discussing how they were going to proceed with the search so they had to wait. Daryl hated to wait because they had wasted way too much time already. Precious time they could’ve spent searching for Sophia. He also mainly hated to wait because this way, he couldn't get away from the newbie. The Irish weirdo was sitting on one of the many graves that were a bit further away from the group, with his arms folded, _staring at him_. He just kept staring at Daryl in a way that made the hunter feel uncomfortable all over again. He didn’t get what the fuck was up with the guy, the staring, the picture he had of his creepy lookalike, generally everything was off about him. He didn’t like that whole thing. Not one bit.

Lori walked over to the blonde guy and handed him a water bottle and something to eat from her backpack, but he just shook his head. Daryl couldn't understand what they were saying, but after some talking the newbie eventually took the provisions. _What a shame. He’d rather see him fucking starve to death or some crap._ At least this way, he’d stop wasting their time, stop _staring_.

Soon enough the Irishman focused on the food instead, but he wouldn’t eat or drink for a very long while. He just started at it, moved it around in his hands as he got lost in his weirdo whack thinking world. He glanced up every now and then, cautiously waiting for Lori to turn around, to get away, to see the rest of the group get involved in the discussion. No one was paying attention to the guy for a moment, and it seemed like he’d been waiting for just that.

At first, Daryl thought he was going to snap. That he was going to attack them, whistle for his buddies to come. Or that he was going to draw a secret weapon when he turned his back on them, turned away. Daryl already prepared himself to get into a fight, to stop the guy and finally put him down. But when he got moving, when he angrily changed his position, he suddenly saw what was up with the whole turning around deal.

The Irishman was gulping the water and food down rapidly. It certainly wasn’t a flattering sight. That was probably the reason why he had turned around after all. By the speed he was going, it was _obvious_ that the guy had been close to starving, that he was incredibly hungry and had only tried to turn the food down out of curtesy, or for whatever other weird reason.

The Irishman stood there in his silly and tight gray shirt and those dirty jeans that hung down on him like a sack. He looked very thin, emaciated even. One could see his ribs through the shirt. Judging by the general state he was in it was no surprise _. Had the guy really just knelt there? Stopped eating, stopped taking care of himself in general at some point?_

Daryl wondered how long he had been inside that church. He wondered why he was the way he was. What was up with the picture and the ‘Murphy’ deal, if this Murphy guy was the reason why he looked so pathetic.

He didn't even know his name.

The hunter shook his head angrily when he realized that he had started to pity the newbie. He didn't want to care. He didn’t want to know his name. He didn't even want him with them. Newbies just meant trouble. Crazy newbies were dangerous. And that Irish nutjob was most certainly crazy with all his staring and whacking about. He had no idea why Rick and Shane had allowed him to join them in the first place. He was filthy after all, had mad eyes, couldn’t even take care of himself, had obviously been through some fucked up shit. He could tell that the guy was going to snap sooner or later, couldn't be trusted, and he sure _wouldn't_ trust the guy. _Seriously, what was the point?_ It was way too obvious that the guy meant trouble. Daryl narrowed his eyes and continued to glare at him, secretly threatening him with the look.

Shane came over to them and snapped the hunter out of it.

"Y'all gonna follow the creek bed back, okay?" he said and looked at Daryl. "You're in charge. Me and Rick, we're just gonna hang back, search this area another hour or so just to be thorough."

Daryl frowned. It certainly just seemed to get worse and worse with this whole thing. First they took in a complete stranger who was obviously dangerous, and now they were going in smaller and smaller groups. Probably making it even easier for the weirdo to pick them off one by one.

"You're splitting us up. You sure?" he simply asked though because even if something happened, it wouldn’t be his problem. That was something all these stupid people had to deal with on their own then. Shane gave him a nod and looked back towards the rest of the group.

"Yeah, we'll catch up to you."

Daryl gritted his teeth a bit and glared at the Irishman once more, threatening him with the look, grabbing the crossbow tighter. He let out a little sigh because he already knew what was up next anyway. In the end, he still asked the question he knew the answer to.

"What about the newbie?"

The Irishman raised his head a little bit and looked back at him when he heard that they were talking about him. His eyes really looked crazy. When he suddenly gave him a small smirk, it didn’t exactly make the whole thing any friendlier or less worrying. Quite the opposite, the smirk made the blonde look even more fucked up. The blonde then got up from the grave he’d been sitting on, shoved his hands into his pockets and got moving. Daryl growled and tried not to punch the guy’s face again when he came closer. He just ignored him instead. Shane looked at Rick to get his opinion and the policeman let out a small sigh.

"Take him back to the RV. Looks like you're pretty exhausted. Daryl knocked you out good" the policeman said to the Irishman and Daryl scoffed. The hunter folded his arms and looked away. Rick looked at his wife in the meantime. "Lori'll take a look at your head back at our camp, see what we can do for you."

"'m fine" the newbie murmured once he was with them and Shane smirked cockily.

"No offense but you look terrible, buddy."

Daryl snorted. _Understatement._

"All right, off you go now. I don't want you to run out of daylight" Rick said and ended the conversation between them before things could escalate once more. Carl approached his father then.

"I wanna come with you. I'm her friend."

Both Rick and Shane looked at each other. The latter shrugged with a smirk on his face. Lori grabbed her son by his shoulders and smiled.

"Just be careful, okay?" Carl nodded.

"I will."

Lori grabbed his face and sighed.

"When did you start growing up?"

Daryl rolled his eyes and turned around to check their surroundings for walkers, pissed off by the scene. Right now, he was pretty much pissed at everyone and everything. And it only got worse when the newbie once again tried coming closer and closer to him. They were pretty much almost standing right next to each other already but for some weird reason that didn’t seem to be enough for the guy. Daryl tensed up and slowly started shifting away, but the Irishman wouldn’t stop following. Rick was currently offering his wife his gun but Lori wouldn't take it, so the hunter saw this as the perfect excuse to get away from the Irishman without having to punch him again. He shifted forward and offered her the gun he’d found back at the abandoned camp in the woods earlier. He preferred his crossbow anyway, so he put the gun right in Lori’s hand.

"Here, got a spare. Take it" he muttered and then walked past her so he could get away from all of them, moving towards the woods. He didn't want to be near the church any second longer, and part of him seriously hoped that the newbie would decide to stay here if he only ignored him enough and made it very clear that he wasn’t this Murphy guy. But of course he wouldn't. When Daryl started walking the Irishman followed him on an instant.

Daryl moved through the woods almost graciously, used to the uneven ground, the tripping hazards and countless tree stumps he walked past as if he were making his way through a maze. It was a bit cooler in the woods and he certainly appreciated it, and he once again fell in love with the smell almost immediately. The woods were still the most comforting place he could think of, the only place that had a calming effect on his temper. He simply kept walking straight, trying to ignore the fact that he was being followed by all these other people he couldn’t even stand, followed by that one specific person that already annoyed the crap out of him the most. He kept his eyes fixed on what was in front of him for as long as he could, pretending to be on a simple hunt, but the illusion wouldn’t exactly last that long. Because way too soon for his liking the women had to stop because they needed a break.

"So this is it? The whole plan?" Carol asked somewhere behind him and made Daryl slow down and turn around. She was already sitting down on a tree stump. The hunter wanted to just keep going, but even he had to admit that maybe they could use a small break to get their shit together again. And he figured that Carol, out of all people, needed a break from the stress of losing her daughter the most. So he let out a little sigh and leaned against a tree, resting as well.

"Guess the plan is to whittle us down into smaller and smaller groups" he said, looking around at the others until he fixed his eyes on the blonde once again. The stupid Irish weirdo who was once again approaching him and came to a halt right next to him, leaning against the other side of the same tree he was leaning against. He kept looking at Daryl who immediately broke eye contact got back to pretending that the guy didn’t exist, just so he didn’t get any ideas.

"Carrying knives and pointy sticks. I see you have a gun" Andrea said and gave Daryl the distraction he desperately needed before he punched someone again. Andrea was looking at Lori who sat down and searched her bag for some water.

"Why, you want it? Here, take it. I’m sick of the looks you’re giving me" Lori answered and Andrea scoffed. She took the gun and shook her head. Daryl rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth a bit.

 _Great, not only did he have to watch over some crazed and pathetic freak, he also had to suffer through a premature bitch fight,_ the hunter thought the moment Lori got into a full blown rant. Telling everybody about how none of it was her husband’s fault, how they should blaming him, how there was no way for them to undo any of the things that had happened to Sophia.

The hunter kind of reckoned that maybe she did have a point, but he still didn’t give much of a shit. Arguing and talking about it right now wasn’t helping anybody, it only made things worse and slowed them down even more. _That_ wasn’t helping Sophia. Nothing else. He looked around the woods once again, trying to find her, but sooner or later his mind always got back to wondering why the heck he was even with those people in the first place. Just so he didn’t have to be alone he figured. Because they had been the last ones to see his brother. But even then. All their fucking drama, all their yapping about gave him more and more reasons to consider leaving. If it weren’t for the girl, weren’t for Carol who he was looking at now.

He wasn’t one to leave lost children behind. He wasn’t one to let mothers grieve if they had a pretty decent chance to stop it all with his hunting and tracking skills. And yet, here they were. Fucking bitch fighting and drama. He wanted to go vomit somewhere.

Daryl's heart skipped a beat when something suddenly nudged his arm. Startling hard, the hand on his crossbow inched towards the trigger, but then he remembered what or _who_ was standing right there. He caught a glimpse of a tattooed hand on his lower arm, a trigger finger that read ‘Veritas’, then he immediately turned his head, looked up and gave the Irishman who had just nudged him a death glare.

"What's she talkin bout Murph, what happened?" the Irishman was asking the hunter and looked at him curiously. For a long second, Daryl glared right back at him now that they were so _close_ to each other. Taking note of the haggard face, the messy long stubbles and half beard, the crazed icy blue eyes, the scar on the guy’s eyebrow. Even now the man seemed to pretend they knew each other.

Daryl growled and moved away from him.

"Why should I tell yah? Touch me again and I break every single one of yah bones, leprechaun."

The newbie narrowed his eyes at him.

"Stop callin me that, alright? My name’s fuckin Connor, nat leprechaun."

"Whatever" Daryl growled and started walking again. He just knew that no matter how many times he told this freak to fuck off - he was going to be a pain in his ass anyway. No matter what, at least he knew his name now. Connor.

They heard a gunshot. Daryl urged them to keep going no matter how often Lori turned around and worried about her son and husband. They couldn't risk another slow down. The newbie had slowed them down enough already. He still wouldn't say much but even now Daryl felt how he kept staring at his back. Walking faster and faster, Daryl couldn’t get away from that though, because Lori suddenly stopped walking once again.

* * *

 

"I heard a gunshot" she said and wouldn't move. Daryl scoffed and tried to keep walking.

"We all heard it."

Lori stood her ground and looked at the hunter, slowing the entire group down along with her.

"Why one? Just one gunshot?"

"Maybe they took down a dead one" the Irishman spoke up then after what felt like hours of not talking and interacting with his environment. That was reason enough for Daryl to finally halt as well, and he just turned around and _glared_ at the guy. He didn’t have the fucking right to interact with their group. He didn’t have the right to get involved in any of this. Because the more he talked to them, the more he tried to become part of all this, the less likely it was going to be that they could get rid of him. Daryl turned around and walked back a bit, trying to stop any of this, but it was already to late. Lori was looking at Connor, talking to him. Dragging him right into her drama as well.

"Rick wouldn't risk a gunshot to put down one walker. Or Shane, they'd do it quietly."

Connor bit his bottom lip and nodded, stepping back a bit with a shrug.

"Sappose yer right. They seem smart enough. Just a suggestion."

 _Just a suggestion_ , Daryl imitated the Irish guy’s stupid voice and accent in his mind and even rolled his eyes a bit. Jesus fucking Christ was this guy annoying and stupid. He better fucking shut up and…

"Shouldn't they have caught up with us by now?" Carol asked and kept the conversation up, much to Daryl’s dislike. She was looking at him and waiting for him to reassure her.

"There's nothing we can do about it anyway" he simply answered and turned around, trying to get them moving again

"We could go back" Connor suggested right then and Daryl stopped once _again,_ turning around and then walking right back towards the Irishman in an aggressive manner because he was finally fed up with his talking more and more.

"Wanna run around these woods chasing echoes? Yeah, yah look just like it, freak" he snarled and eyeballed him. The Irishman narrowed his eyes at him and was just about to say something when Lori spoke up.

"So what do we do?"

"Same as we've been. Beat the bush for Sophia, work our way back up the highway" the hunter said and kept looking at Connor, standing really close to him, trying to provoke him into a fight to get his true self out there, to make everybody see how fucking crazy, stupid and annoying he really was, just so he could get him to leave. But the guy wouldn’t react to any of that in any way Daryl expected him to. He simply just stared right back at him, seemed to suck in every little detail of his face with his eyes. It was obvious that the hunter’s face was zapping him out of the here and now, made him think about something else entirely. He was never going to get into a fight with him because that distraction would always be there. When nothing would happen, Daryl just scoffed and turned away with a frustrated frown, stomping away.

The group followed him and after a very long moment of awkward silence and quiet walking, Andrea seemed to think that it would be a good idea to distract all of them from all the tension in the air.

"I'm sorry for what you're going through" Daryl heard her say to Carol right behind him, and he discreetly listened up a bit.

"I know how you feel" she went on.

They all knew how that felt. He did, too. Losing family. No matter if it was Carol losing Sophia or Andrea losing her sister or him losing Merle. It always would be shitty. The only difference was that neither his brother nor the little girl were fucking _dead_.

"I suppose you do. Thank you. The thought of her, out here by herself. It's the not knowing that's killing me" Carol said and almost started crying again. "I just keep hoping and praying she doesn't wind up like Amy."

"Who's Amy?” Connor asked after a moment, somewhat further behind them. Daryl moved his head a bit to the side so he could catch a glimpse of the weirdo. Lori had kept him company ever since they had first stopped, keeping to what her husband had told her to do. Looking after the whacko.

"Andrea's sister. We lost her a couple of days ago."

"Oh. Right. Sorry fer the loss”

Daryl fought hard not to scoff loudly. As if the guy’d fucking care. Only god knew how many people the loony had killed already. He certainly looked like it anyway. And he was all by himself, so one more reason to think that….

“Know the feeling" the Irishman added then though, and this time, Daryl actually did slow down so he could look at the guy properly. For a short moment, he caught an unfiltered glimpse of the sudden deep sorrow and depression that was lingering under that mask of starvation and exhaustion. But then the blonde was looking up at him, having noticed the look he was being given. He stopped looking sad on an instant and gave him a crazed and ‘happy’ smile. The hunter gritted his teeth angrily and quickly looked away, angry with himself for having been caught staring.

He walked on and wouldn’t look back anymore, but the moment had left a lasting impression on him. _The picture the picture the picture_. His mind went back to it all the time now. Now that the guy had made the comment, all of it made more and more sense. The staring, the state the guy was in. Whoever this Murphy had been, that weird guy who looked so much like him, he was gone some way or another. That was the reason why the Irishman kept staring at him. That was the reason he pretended that they knew each other.

How fucking perfect. Just his luck. Now he seemed to have a missing or dead guy’s face on top of all the other shit. This day just seemed to get better and better.

"We're all hoping and praying with you, for what it's worth" Andrea said and Daryl had enough of everything. The fact that he looked like a dead or missing guy. The fact that they were all such pathetic cry babies who shouted dead all over and seemed to love giving up on everybody and pretending more than actually trying anything at all.

"I tell yah what it's worth - Not a damn thing. It's a waste of time, all this hopin' and prayin' and yappin’ about. We're gonna locate that little girl. She's gonna be just fine, and shit’s gonna work out. Am I the only one zen around here? Good lord."

He shook his head and started walking again. He was surprised when Connor wouldn't follow him instantly. He just stood there and waited for Carol. "I'm sorry you lost yer girl" he said right after him and Carol smiled at him.

"Thanks."

"Ye shouldn’t listen ta this guy, though. There’s no need ta stop praying. The lord'll hear yer prayers. He always does" he said and looked at Daryl s back.

"He heard mine."

* * *

 

"We'll lose the daylight before too long. I think we should call it. Let's head back."

When Connor heard those words he let out a relieved sigh. He wasn't exactly someone to complain a lot, but searching these woods for hours on end had done him no good. He knew that if he went on like that much longer, it could actually knock him out or kill him. He was exhausted, tired, thirsty and starving. He'd been inside that church for days. Without any sleep. Without any food or water. He'd just knelt there. Praying for all of it to fucking end. Praying to god to get Murphy back. He now had to admit that all of this had been stupid, that he had not been himself for way too long. And yet, his prayers had still been heard. He had his brother back. The guy everyone kept calling Daryl.

He knew this wasn’t Murphy.

He knew what had….

He closed his eyes for a tiny moment and leaned forward a bit, catching his breath, shaking his head gently. _No. This man had his face and his voice, so how could he not be him? Stupid him. The heat, the sun, the lack of food, water and sleep was playing tricks on him. Of course this was Murphy. Of course this was his brother. God had heard his prayers just like he’d made them stop after he’d prayed for them to take a break._

It didn’t truly matter how confusing and exhausting and terrible all of this was.

He was grateful. Those people had helped him and probably saved his life. They had taken him with them no matter how intimidating he looked right now. He knew exactly that he looked like _shit_. They had still given him a chance, which was the main reason why he didn't want to ask them for yet another favor, hadn’t bothered asking for them to take a break. He had kept walking instead. But every mile they walked through the woods wore him out even more. He could hardly stand any more, and he knew he was going to pass out soon. Passing out probably meant dying now, because he really wasn’t sure if they were going to give him _another_ chance after what they’d already done for him today.

"We'll pick it up again tomorrow?" Andrea asked and Lori nodded.

"Yeah, we'll find her tomorrow."

Connor looked up a bit, still breathing hard and trying to rest. He caught glimpse of Carol who looked extremely disappointed and sad. He felt sorry for her and knew exactly how she felt, but even then he couldn’t deny the fact that he was so incredibly fucking _relieved_ that they were going back to this RV of theirs where he could rest, where he could sleep without the prospect of getting eaten alive by a bunch of walkers in a church. He didn’t want to die anymore. That was the problem now. He’d been pretty far down the line already.

"How far is the interstate from here?" Lori asked the man everyone called Daryl.

"Not much. Maybe a hundred yards as the crow flies" the hunter answered and Connor let his head drop a bit with an exhausted sigh. He could hardly keep up with them already and he knew that the man who looked so much like his brother wouldn't slow down on their way back either, which was exactly what he did.

He simply led them in a different direction right from the off, without giving the Irishman any more time to rest a bit. The blonde knew that the other man was doing this on purpose to make it harder for him to follow. He knew that he was trying anything to get rid of him. But there was no chance he was gonna give in now. No matter how hard it was going to be. Connor clumsily managed to straighten up and followed him on an instant, just as the many times before.

Just walking and stumbling after him, quickly losing track of time and place and purpose. One foot in front of the other, accompanied by the constant painful growling in his stomach. He didn’t know how much time had passed when Andrea started talking again. He was half delirious by the time he noticed that he and her were actually pretty far behind the group, had swayed to the right without the others noticing because Murphy was having a strict lead.

"Too bad we're not crows" Andrea murmured in front of him and growled. "As the crow flies my ass."

She got caught in a spiderweb and tried to fight it off, slowing them down even more. Connor figured that he could use this moment to stop walking for a second, pretending to wait for her and help her. He knew that as long as he was with her, he wouldn’t lose track of the others and that they were going to wait for her. This was an excuse to rest. Stumbling to his knees a bit he stared at the leaves and grass on the ground for a bit, his vision blurring and his head seemingly spinning. For a moment, nothing mattered, he wasn’t even really here. He just stared at the dirt and leaves on the ground and moved his fingers across them, grasped them, tried to anchor himself in the here and now, let himself feel that this was _really_ happening. Murphy was walking right in front him now. It actually made him smile despite the dizziness and exhaustion. When he finally looked up again to check where the group was, all he managed was catch a glimpse of a walker who was suddenly approaching Andrea fairly quickly.

“Watch out!” he tried to shout for her but his voice was croaky and a pathetic excuse of a shout, not helping at all. The walker was already on her and made her stumble and then fall back. She started screaming and fighting in horror. Although the Irishman desperately tried to help her, tried to move a bit, he actually couldn’t move at all. Not just because of the exhaustion and dizziness, but also because her screaming and the whole scenario sent him right back into massive shock.

No matter how hard he tried to fight it, the flashbacks were coming. Violently. Freezing him right in place. There was chaos all around him and he couldn’t move, couldn’t stop staring with wide eyes. One moment it was Andrea on the ground with a walker, the next there was Murphy. Murphy screaming. Murphy fighting. The leaves were gone just like the trees, replaced with sharp and icy snapshots of Boston’s skyscrapers and bloody asphalt. The _real_ world. In the woods, the others came running right towards them, trying to help Andrea. He didn’t know if it was really happening or just another hallucination, but for some weird reason, there was suddenly a horse with a girl in the saddle, knocking the walker right off of Andrea with a baseball bat.

He could feel the sudden harsh breeze of wind from the horse hit him right in the face as it stormed right past him. That startling sudden movement was what snapped him out of the flashback. Then the others were there. Trying to help Andrea as the girl on the horse came right back and shouted for Lori Grimes. It was all a big mess.

"I'm Lori" Rick's wife said and looked at her in confusion. Connor caught a glimpse of his brother’s look alike, of _Murphy_ , real Murphy there once again, not the one from the flashback but the _real one_ , coming right at him with the crossbow aimed at his head.

"Rick sent me - you've got to come now. There's been an accident-Carl's been shot. He's still alive but you've gotta come now. Rick needs you-just come” the girl on the horse explained in a hurry. Just when Murphy had been about to _shoot_ him, he suddenly stopped glaring at him and looked at Lori and the girl on the horse instead. Rick’s wife was climbing on top of the animal, too. Crossbow still aimed at the Irishman, Daryl tried to get their attention in the meantime.

"Whoa whoa whoa, we don't know this girl, you can't get on that horse!"

"Rick said you had others on the highway, that big traffic snarl? Backtrack to Fairburn road. Two miles down is our farm. You'll see the mailbox-Name's Greene" the girl said and got the horse into a fast gallop before Daryl could say anything else. She disappeared with Lori right behind her on top of the horse. The group just looked after them for a while, then Daryl finally seemed to remember that he was still aiming his crossbow at the Irishman. He immediately focused on him again.

The Irish weird who was still kneeling there on the ground after the screaming had started. He could see the walker on the ground now and understood that this had been about a dead one, that this hadn’t been about the Irish weirdo snapping and attacking one of their group. But still. The guy was kneeling there. Right in front of him. And he hadn’t done shit to help Andrea with the walker, getting her into even more trouble.

This was it, this was reason enough for him to finally put the guy down and get rid of him. He kept his crossbow aimed right at this pathetic excuse of a guy who was just staring up at him.

"You nearly got her killed, whacko” he snarled and kept his eyes glued on the blonde. “You plan any of this, huh? Hang back, pick us off one by one?”

“Daryl!” Andrea said when she finally managed to get herself back together again after the walker attack, still breathing heavily. But the attack was momentarily forgotten because of the way the hunter was threatening the newest addition to their group.

“ A walker attacked me. He didn’t do any….”

“Exactly. Told yah this guy’s a waste ‘a time.”

And still with the staring. The blonde kept staring right up at him, still looking like shit, looking him in the eye until he let his gaze travel lower, fixed his mad eyes on the tip of Daryl’s arrow instead. Still not saying or doing anything, he just stared at the arrow.

As if he was waiting for him to pull the trigger.

Daryl frowned a little, surprised to find out that he was actually quite confused by all of this. He had never killed a man before and knew that he actually didn’t want to if he didn’t have to. He certainly wasn’t going to kill a guy just because he didn’t stand him. Truth be told, he didn’t even know why he seemed to hate him so much that he wanted to kill him. Even if he left all that aside, he was actually surprised to find out that he _didn’t_ want to kill _this guy_. He _pitied_ him with that stupid look he was giving him. All he knew was that this guy was seriously messed up, and that he didn’t want to pull the trigger anymore. All he could do was look at him while the other did the same.

The walker which had attacked Andrea suddenly got moving again, right between them, shifting and moving towards Connor, trying to grab him. He grabbed hold of the Irishman’s shirt, clung and yanked at it as he clumsily tried to get up to sink his teeth in the blonde’s neck. Daryl was still staring at the Irishman just like the other did, never breaking eye contact. The blonde wouldn’t take note of the undead who was just about to kill him and just like with the crossbow, he simply seemed to want to wait it out and let it happen.

This guy wanted to _die_.

Daryl finally really understood that the Irishman wasn’t a danger to them or anyone else around him. He looked scary and shady simply because he was a complete danger to himself.

When Daryl finally pulled the trigger, the arrow wouldn’t even fly anywhere close to the Irishman.

He shot the walker between them and killed him instead.

For a moment longer, they just looked at each other while Daryl lowered his crossbow. Then he simply scoffed angrily and walked away while Connor remained on his knees for a little while longer, letting it sink in.

"Eh Murph, fuckin wait fer me!" he eventually called out, got back on his feet and tried to follow Daryl once more.

 


	3. Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **timeline:** episode 2 " _Bloodletting_ "

They reached the highway by sunset. There were two other people waiting by an RV that didn't look it had broken down like all the other vehicles on the highway. Connor almost wanted to start shouting hallelujah at the world as soon as he saw it, knowing that this was the one the sheriff had talked about earlier. He remained quiet though and examined the other people a little closer instead, wondering how long it was going to take until they let him rest. Although he was half delirious and pretty close to passing out, his eyes were still somewhat functioning. He could make out an elderly man who was wearing a funny hat and a Hawaiian shirt. He was standing right next to the RV and looked like he was just about to go fishing. Next to the old man was an African American who was sporting a pretty serious bandage on his arm and who seemed to be equally exhausted as him.

For a short moment, both the African American and elderly guy took note of Connor and scanned his entire figure head to toe with wary looks and raised eyebrows, reminding the Irishman once again that he looked like some creepy homeless person. Back in the old days, he would’ve been his usual charming persona, the guy to make friends quite easily. But not anymore. He didn’t want to make any friends and neither did he want to talk or even think about anything. So instead of interacting with the group he simply turned his head a bit to the side, a bit embarrassed, and then let his gaze wander, scanning the surrounding abandoned cars. He wondered where the one he’d abandoned was. He’d left that old pickup truck somewhere around here when he’d taken note of the church just off the interstate.

Connor rubbed his forehead shakily and looked down.

It wasn’t like it mattered. He wasn’t going to get back to that car, not going back to the place he’d run away from. Wherever he was going now, he guessed he was stuck with these people from now on.

"Carl's been shot" he heard the Asian boy, whose name he remembered to be Glenn, say and looked up. The elderly man turned around and looked at them in surprise.

"Shot? How?"

"I don't know Dale. I wasn't there. All I know is this chick rode out of nowhere like Zorro on a horse and took Lori."

The horse, the screaming. Even now he couldn’t get that scenario out of his head. It had been fairly confusing, like straight out of some action movie. Back in the old days, he would’ve laughed about that and told everyone about it. Now he simply sat down on the hood of a car, folded his arms and continued staring at his lap. He didn’t pay much attention to their talk anymore. Not just because it was none of his business, but also because he was already drifting off to sleep a bit.

"And who the hell’s this guy?" the African American asked and snapped him out of his dizziness a couple minutes later when they were done talking about whatever the hell they had discussed. Connor raised his head and looked at them yet again, eyes puffy and nothing but tiny slits from the exhaustion.

"We found him in a church when we were looking for Sophia. He was all by himself…What’s it again?"

He blinked and looked at them for a while, examining each and every one of them until his eyes momentarily fixed on his brother’s doppelganger. Then he eventually managed to answer, although he was still dizzy and confused.

"Connor.”

“Right. Connor. Rick thinks he’s alright.”

Somewhere in the back, Daryl was scoffing angrily as he walked away from them, once again dismissing the latest addition to their group with a muttered “Yeah, right. Stupid whacko.”

The elderly man named Dale nodded after having looked at the Irishman’s dirty face and clothes a little too long, while Connor went back to his general zoning out and concentrating on his brother’s lookalike. Dale eventually turned his head to look at Andrea.

"I heard screams, was that you?" he asked, worried eyes zapping back and forth between her and Connor. The Irishman kind of wanted to roll his eyes at them. Yeah. He knew he looked like shit. No, it didn’t mean he was going to fucking attack any women. Jesus.

"She got attacked by a walker. It was a close call" Glenn answered and moved over to their bags and weapons to get everything ready for whatever they were going to do next. Dale finally stopped giving Connor worried looks and completely focused on Andrea instead.

"Andrea, are you alright?"

She just glared at him for a full minute until she disappeared inside the RV without a word. Eventually, curiosity still took hold of the Irishman despite his shell shocked state. These people seemed nice enough and seemed to care about each other, so he figured that maybe it would be a great distraction for him to get to know them a bit better. He eventually turned around a bit so he could talk to Carol who was closest to him.

"Who's he? That her father?"

Carol startled a bit since he’d snapped her out of her worried, silently weeping state. Up until now, she had continuously looked back at the woods, obviously still looking for her daughter.

"No. It's just Dale. None of us are related. He saved her and her sister back in Atlanta."

Connor pressed his lips together a bit at the mention of a sibling and just looked at the door Andrea had closed.

“Doesn’t seem too grateful that one then, does she” he muttered, trying to somewhat keep the conversation up to get her to trust him, to let her and the others know that he was willing to chat and wasn’t going to hurt them.

"She tried to kill herself a couple of days ago and Dale wouldn't let her. We’ve all been through so much, it’s hard to keep…" she swallowed hard and looked away, obviously fighting tears once more. Although he knew that he should and wanted to talk to her, comfort her, Connor wouldn’t say anything anymore instead. He wasn’t exactly in the mood of giving an uplifting speech when he didn’t even believe in that shit himself anymore.

The group didn’t seem to care that he was zoning out again since they were busier talking their next move through. They were deciding that they wanted to head for the farm that strange woman on the horse had been talking about. He figured that this place was as good as any. Especially now that he couldn’t stop looking at the man who looked exactly like Murphy. He was oblivious to the fact that he was being watched. Just like Connor he kept to himself and wouldn’t interact with the group much, caught up in his own space. Connor knew that wherever this guy went, he was going to follow. Squeezing his eyes shut a bit under the dizziness and exhaustion, Connor quickly shook his head once and growled.

No. Not this guy. _Murphy_. _Wherever Murphy went he was going to follow._ He needed to get him to trust him again. They needed to be together again. Just like they had always been. So he eventually and clumsily got off the hood of the car the moment he saw him by that motorbike just behind the RV. Closing the distance between them, Connor smirked a bit and pointed at it.

"Nice ride ye got there" he said and got as close as he could, trying to start a conversation. The hunter wouldn’t even look at him, still pretending that he didn’t exist as he kept cleaning his bike and checking the parts. Connor stood there awkwardly, still inching closer and closer. He chewed on his lips and kept his mad eyes fixed on the man until he tried again.

“Look, I totally get that yer mad at me, considering that….”

"I won't do it, we can't just leave" Carol said loudly to their right and interrupted his talk. Although he’d rather keep his eyes fixed on the man in front of him, Connor still ended up turning his head to see what was going on.

"Carol, the group is split. We're scattered and weak" Dale, who was standing right in front of her, answered while the almost hysteric woman shook her head and frantically looked back towards the woods.

"What if she comes back and we're not here? It could happen."

"If Sophia found her way back and we were gone that would be awful" Andrea agreed and Daryl suddenly got moving with a sigh, shoving his way right past Connor so he could talk to his people and get him to back off with his pathetic attempts to talk to him.

"Alright, we gotta plan for this. I say tomorrow morning is soon enough to pull up stakes. Give us a chance to rig a big sign, leave her some supplies. I'll hold here tonight. Stay with the RV."

"I'll stay with ye" Connor agreed and put his duffel bag on with a content nod and smirk.

Daryl scoffed and gave him an angry glare, finally acknowledging the man next to him.

"Yeah, you can shut the hell up and fuck off, whacko. No yah won't."

"Fuck ye, I.." the latest addition to their group tried to argue, but Dale interrupted them.

"If the RV is staying, I am too."

The statement was followed by a moment of silence as everybody realized that it was pretty much certain that they all were probably going to stay. Carol eventually smiled. It was a sad one, but still appreciative.

"Thank you. Thank you all" she said, sounding utterly grateful until she fixed her eyes on Daryl. The hunter looked back at her and eventually nodded, turning his head to shoot a questioning look at Andrea.

"I'm in" she agreed and nodded.

"Well, if you're all staying then I'm..." Glenn joined in but Dale shook his head.

"Not you, Glenn. You're going. Take...take Carol's Cherokee."

Glenn scoffed.

"Me? Why is it always me?"

"You have to find this farm, reconnect with our people and see what's going on. But most importantly, you have to get T-Dog there. This is not an option. His cut has gone from bad to worse. He has a very serious blood infection. Get him to that farm. See if they have any antibiotics. Because if not, he will die. No joke.”

Daryl suddenly turned around and walked away. He stopped in front of his bike, grabbed his rucksack and then took a plastic bag out of it. It contained all sorts of things. Pills, small orange plastic containers, meds, powder, anything you could think of. Once he had made sure everything was in there he moved towards them and hit Dale with the red rag he had used to clean his bike with.

"Keep your oily rags off my brother's motorcycle" he ordered and approached T-Dog, who was leaning against one of the cars with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. When Connor heard the word "brother" he immediately looked up, out of habit.

"I don' have.." he began, but stopped talking when he remembered that this wasn’t directed at him, that he Daryl wasn't his brother, and that left a _bitter_ taste in his mouth. It was so hard to cling to that bit of the fantasy world he had left when god decided to torture him like that. Because now, he had not only met a man with his brother’s face, no, god just _had_ to make it worse by giving the man a brother of his own. Making it very clear that he’d never be his brother, that this would never really be Murphy. The Irishman swallowed hard and let out a gentle, frustrated sigh, looking down, quickly shaking his head again to get these thoughts out of his head. _No. He had no idea what he was fucking thinking here. This was Murphy. This was his brother. This was here, this was real, this was…._

"Why'd you wait till now to say anything? Got my brother's stash" Daryl went on and searched his bag. "Crystal, X - Don't need that. Got some kick ass painkillers" he said and threw a small bottle at Glenn so he could give it to T-Dog. He searched his bag once more and found another one. "Doxycycline. Not the generic stuff neither. It's first class. Merle got the clap on occasion."

Connor paled even more. It seemed to get worse and worse. So now the guy had his brother's face, had a brother of his own and he was one of _that_ lot. Drugs, junkies, dealing. The sort of people he'd killed before the apocalypse.

 _So is that it? Is that yer punishment fer what I did ta Murph? Did you really just give me that? The exact fucking opposite of him?_ _A redneck junkie fucker with his face?_

Daryl walked away again and Connor just looked at him, kept staring at him. The face was _exactly_ the same. It was almost creepy how _much_ this guy looked like his brother. Even the voice was almost the same, although slightly lower and without the accent. This _could_ be Murphy. He didn’t even have to try hard to force himself to believe it. He looked at him for a very long time, teeth gritted, ignoring the drugs and general redneck attitude and behavior. When the man shot him a short and angry look, when their eyes met, Connor made the decision.

This was the only way. To keep it together. He had promised, and he was gonna try. If he didn’t take this chance now, he was going to end up back in that church and really pull it through this time, would certainly go insane and cross the line once and for all. He knew it. This was it. His only chance.

He was going to ignore everything he'd just heard and seen. He would ignore the truth, his reality. This _was_ Murphy. This was his brother who'd just helped a man in need by giving him medicine. The bag didn’t have any drugs in it. This man wasn’t a criminal. This man wasn’t some filthy redneck.

Daryl Dixon didn't exist.

“You should probably take the ride with Glenn. No offense, but you look terrible. You’re in a very bad shape. They should check if you’re okay back at the farm, too" Dale suddenly said and actually startled Connor hard. He flinched and then cleared his throat, quickly looking away from Daryl so he could focus on Dale instead.

“No” he said and quickly looked at the rest of the group until he fixed his eyes on Daryl for a little too long again. “You people were already kind enough ta take me with ye back at te church. I wanna help find dat girl of yers and repay my debt. ‘s the least I can do.”

“Look at you, you can barely stand. How long since you last ate something? Or slept? I think I speak for all of us when I say we appreciate the offer, but you don’t look like you’re going to be of much help like that.”

“Well, no offense, sir, but there’s no way yer getting me ta move unless the rest of ye get going as well. Not a chance. I wanna help. I’m _gonna_ help. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Ain’t no way we’re getting the guy close t’our injured back there. Heck no” Daryl muttered somewhere behind them and scoffed once again. “Let ‘im. Ain’t our problem if the guy drops out there” he went on and then simply entered the RV without a second glance. Dale looked at Connor a little while longer just like the rest of the group, but then they all eventually seemed to figure that the hunter was right and that this wasn’t exactly much of their business anyway.


	4. Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to replace Andrea with Connor so they could have their first proper chat.
> 
>  **timeline:** episode 3 - " _Save The Last One_ "

Of course he couldn’t sleep. There was a different reason for it this time, an almost refreshing one. He wasn’t awake right now because he was trying to keep the nightmares at bay. No, right now, he couldn’t sleep because he was _excited_. In a positive kind of way. It was well true that he was pretty much crazy by now, from the lack of sleep, from the hunger, from the world breaking down all around them, but the excitement kept him going, kept him on the right side of things just enough.

He had his brother back.

 _He_ was lying right there on the ground, staring at the ceiling.

Connor had no idea how much time had passed. How much time he had spent just lying here on this kitchen bench inside the RV, staring at him. The Irishman simply couldn’t stop. It was pitch black outside by now so he figured that he’d kept staring for a pretty long while. No matter what, he just lay there and watched in awe, watched his chest rise and fall. Rise and fall.

_He's alive._

That was reason enough not to give in to the sleep he so desperately needed. He smiled yet again instead. 223 breaths of air and still counting.

He was there, he was alive, he was _breathing._

He wanted to fucking weep.

A clattering noise on the table right next to the spot where he was sleeping startled him, made it even more impossible for him to fall asleep. Connor shifted a tiny bit and listened up, only slowly becoming aware of the rest of his surroundings. He eventually and properly moved and sat up, closing his eyes and swallowing hard when the harsh dizziness and black spots all over his vision took hold of him. It took him a very long while to adjust to the new position, to get his blood to flow the right way. He was 70 per cent sure he was going to puke if he wanted to, but fought the urge hard just because he knew that he needed those half-digested sandwiches in there. After all, those had been the only kind of meal he’d had in god knows how long.

Connor shifted and moved until he was properly sitting opposite Andrea, the small kitchen table separating them. The Irishman looked down at the table curiously when he noticed what she was doing. There was a gun on the table, parts sprawled out all over as she was trying to put it back together. He sat there and watched for a bit, feeling slightly uncomfortable because even she wasn’t paying any attention to him at all. No one had talked to him ever since that discussion outside the RV. Out of all of them, only Lori and Carol had been kind enough to him to make him feel at least somewhat welcome and okay.

He knew that he shouldn't blame them. He was well aware of what he looked and smelled like these days. With the beard, the dirty clothes, the freaky hair and lack of sleep and food. All those people seemed so civilized compared to him, with somewhat clean clothes and shaved chins and cut hair. Even after weeks of travelling alone and losing it, he was still used to different reactions from people whenever they’d met him before the outbreak. Back in the old days, it had been fairly easy for him to make friends with anyone. His charisma and looks had helped a lot. He’d been aware of that back in the day and had taken advantage of it. Now that it was all gone, those days and reactions were over and done with as well. Disgust, uneasiness and pity was all that was left.

Weeks of traveling alone, weeks of not caring about anything anymore. They were the first group of living people he had come across in weeks. He hadn't bothered taking care of himself anymore up until now. No one had seen him before today, no one had cared, so he had allowed himself to look miserable, to really _live_ through this pile of shit and let it all slide away. But now his appearance just made him feel uncomfortable, and he could tell that it was doing the same to them. He needed to get his old vibe back. He needed to get them to trust him, to become his friends. There was no other way to get Murphy to trust him again otherwise. He needed to get it back together for _him_.

 _Because_ a _s long as he had Murphy everything was alright._

"D'you need help?" he asked to get the thing in motion.  
If they weren’t going to talk to him and get to know him, he was going to get them to talk and like him.  
Just like he’d always done it before.

Andrea looked up from her gun parts and examined his face and hands for a while, wondering, until she got back to her work.

"No thanks. I need to do this on my own."

_Well, fuck it. What a nice start._

The Irishman took a quiet but deep breath and tried to get it together. He frowned a little at first but then forced himself to smile, trying hard not to make it creepy but charming and inviting, like his old self would’ve done it. Even with the beard and messy greasy hair and crazy eyes.

"I know ye do, but I noticed that yer doing it wrong" he suggested carefully.

Andrea just eyed him again, a bit angry, and bit warily, but Connor still gave her a friendly smirk.

"Look, I know I look fuckin creepy right now, and I know that you people don't trust me, I get it. Ye don’t have a clip in there, right? So it’s all good. I don’t wanna hurt ye, or shoot ye, I just wanna help ye with the gun. I swear. Cos I know my way around those and right now, yer doing it wrong. I just don’t wanna see ye puttin it together the wrong way because you could hurt yerself later. I already screwed up once by not helping ye with the walker. Gotta do it right this time, aye?"

Andrea looked at him for a very long while, turned her head a little to look at the rest of their group inside the RV, until she let out a defeated sigh and gave him the pieces of the gun. He took them with a smile on his face.

"Just helping ye, don't worry, I don't wanna lecture yah. All ye gotta do is put that in first" he said, starting to put the pieces together, still smiling happily as he explained what he was doing. His hands were shaking from the lack of sleep and malnourishment, but even with that he still did it expertly, simply because he really appreciated the distraction. Andrea watched him for a moment, rubbing her neck absently, until she started talking.

“You’re not some criminal or part of a gang, are you” she muttered, noticing his gun skills.

He just scoffed.

“No. The exact opposite, actually. Why, do I seriously look this fuckin creepy?”

She smiled a tiny bit, but then ended up laughing, looking away.

“Yeah, you actually look _really_ creepy. Sorry. It’s just…..”

He looked up curiously and she just snorted again.

“Well the beard and the hair and the tattoos are kinda off-putting.”

He put the gun back together with shaky but delicate fingers and then looked up again to give her a faint smirk that made him look more like his old self, and certainly a bit less.

“Well first thing in the morning, if ye happen ta have a razor or a bunch of scissors, gimme a shoutout” he muttered and then handed her the cleaned and completed gun. “Anyway. Here.”

“Wow” she muttered and took it back. “That was even faster than what Shane did this afternoon” she retorted and turned it around in her hands a bit, until she started dissembling it again, trying to imitate what he’d done before. “So the opposite…are you with the police as well?”

“Not exactly” Connor muttered and corrected her movements. “I was..well…special forces. Plus, when yer growing up country in Ireland and living in South Boston, ye kinda pick up a few things.”

Andrea was just about to keep the conversation up when they were suddenly interrupted.

Carol had started crying in the back of the RV.

Connor raised his head a little to look at her, falling quiet. He honestly did feel sorry for her, but right now, her crying wasn’t exactly helping, it frustrated him in fact. Because it was ripping him right out of his perfect distraction. He’d been surprised how quickly he’d gotten used to talking to people again, how much he appreciated it in fact. Especially after he’d spent weeks without saying a single word.

The truth was that up until now, the loneliness had been unbearable. Thick with depressing thoughts and hallucinations and numbing shock. The talk with Andrea had made him forget about it for just a moment. The fidgeting with the gun had successfully kept his mind off things. But now Carol’s crying brought all of those dark feelings and emotions back right in an instant. Her crying was the cue to let him, to let _everybody_ know that there was no point in chitchatting, no point in seeing any positive outcomes or anything positive about this whole thing in general. Carol had lost her daughter. Andrea had lost her sister. He had…. Closing his eyes and clenching his fists, Connor fought hard to blend the crying, blend _everything_ out. Even Andrea. He couldn’t give in to any of this. He wasn’t allowed to give in and…

Crying, crying, crying. _Everything_ was depressing as fuck. There he was again, pretty close to losing it. Connor only snapped out of it when he suddenly heard the rustling of a sleeping bag, heard Daryl sit up and look towards Carol, too.

The Irishman opened his eyes and looked at the back of the hunter’s head, once again losing the ability to think and breathe because he was an exact copy of Murphy. For a moment he thought that the man was going to lose it again. After all, the tiny sane part that was left of Connor already knew that his twin’s look alike was an angry, pissed off, impatient, aggressive redneck who was annoyed by everything around him. Luckily, nothing like that would happen. It certainly made it a whole lot easier for Connor to pretend that this was Murphy. Murphy who was always willing to help, who would never let mothers weep, who would go out there to set things right.

The hunter looked at crying Carol for a moment and then got up. Grabbing his crossbow and sorting his clothes a bit, he eventually got moving and came to a halt right next to Andrea.

"I need my clip now" he muttered and held his hand out so she could give it back to him. Just like any other time before, Connor got caught up staring at him without blinking whereas the hunter ignored him completely and pretended that he didn’t exist.

"I'm gonna walk the road, look for the girl" he said to Andrea instead and turned around to leave.

He wasn’t exactly surprised to see and hear how the Irishman got moving as well. Of course the fucker was gonna follow him outside. Daryl simply kept the act of ignoring and pretending that the guy didn’t exist up. He kept walking, starting to zigzag his way through the abandoned traffic snarl on the interstate. He’d passed the first two cars when Connor tried to talk to him again.

"Wait. I wanna come with ye."

Daryl rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth, considering to just keep going, but he already knew that it was going to be useless. The weirdo was obviously not just crazy and filthy, he was also a psychopathic stalker or some crap. He _wasn’t_ gonna stop. Daryl turned around and gave the man an angry glare.

"No way?"

"Aye, ye can't go out there on yer own, there's walkers everywhere?"

Daryl scoffed and eyed the man in front of him head to toe. All skinny and creepy and half dead and half asleep, he was pretty sure he just needed to breathe some air into the guy’s face and he was going to collapse. _As if_ he’d be of any help out there. He was just going to be a liability no matter what.

"I don't need no babysitter. And I ain't going nowhere with some psycho nutjob I don't even know" he growled and turned around again to try and get moving once more.

"I think he's right Daryl. You can't go out there all by yourself" he suddenly heard Dale say from somewhere above them. The hunter stopped in his tracks and looked up at the RV. The old man was standing atop his vehicle, shotgun in his one had, binoculars in the other, still looking so incredibly ridiculous with the Hawaiian shirt and the hat.

"We can't lose any more people" the old man added, but Daryl only scoffed once more.

"Yah can keep your trap shut up there, Gandalf. This ain’t none of your business" he retorted and then looked back at Connor, pointing at him.

“You ain’t following me, you prick. Get it? If I see yah following me, you get an arrow in your ass” he said and then turned around angrily, ready to head for the woods.“Now fuck off.” He quickly zigzagged his way past the abandoned cars again, eager to get away from both Dale and the Irish weirdo. He’d just made his way over the crash barrier and stepped into the woods when he saw that the blonde started following him despite the threat.

Daryl narrowed his eyes a little and Connor did stop, but then the hunter just scoffed and kept going again. Now that he thought about it, maybe it was a good thing that the Irish prick was going to follow him. Because as soon as it was just the two of them in those woods, maybe he had a better chance of losing the guy or simply getting rid of him. The fucker better fucking try to attack him. At least this way, he’d have an excuse to shoot him in his ass for real.

* * *

 

He’d been searching the woods for Sophia for 20 minutes now. Connor had kept quite the distance from for the longest time, not saying a word, just following him and staring him and generally being creepy behind him. Maybe even a bit too creepy, even for the hunter. Daryl had spent the first five to ten minutes turning around a lot to keep an eye on the weirdo, to check that he wasn’t going to stab him in the back, but he quickly figured that this wasn’t going to work. He couldn’t concentrate both on the guy behind him and any possible tracks in front of him. And he knew that Connor wasn’t going to stop following him.

 _Well he’ll be fucked_ Daryl thought angrily. The only way to make this work was to let the guy catch up to him. The only way to make him less creepy and less dangerous was to see what he was really made of by interacting with him. Gritting his teeth angrily and gripping his crossbow tighter, Daryl started slowing down, only hating the guy even more.

This was just childish. This was just blackmail, in fact. Fucker and his peer pressuring him into talking to him just so he would stop being creepy. It didn’t take long and they were pretty much right next to each other, but even then Daryl refused to look at the other man or even talk to him. He tried, thought about it, but then ended up being too stubborn to start anything. He concentrated on any traces he wanted to find of Sophia instead, although he knew that it was way too dark to achieve anything like that.

Luckily, the Irish guy finally started being less creepy all by himself. He obviously took the hunter’s slowing down as an invitation to start talking to him. Or maybe he thought that his giving in without shooting him in the ass meant that they were friends now or something. Without invitation or suggestion that Daryl wanted to talk, Connor actually started babbling on his own. Talking to him as if they’d known each other forever and as if this were the perfect opportunity for nonchalant chitchat. In a way, that was still creepy and weird. At least it was less creepy than the staring and following him and being ready to backstab him, Daryl figured, so he let the guy talk.

"Ye know, and I keep driving down the road until I see that massive, fat walker crawling across the street like some fuckin ugly snail. I swear ta god, I wanted t’stop and take a picture af it cos it looked so fuckin funny" the Irishman recounted his travel down to Georgia a couple of minutes later and started giggling. He even nudged Daryl, much to the latter’s disapproval. The hunter grunted an angry “Getcha mitts off of me” and shoved the other man’s hands away harshly. It didn’t faze Connor though, for he just kept talking. "I kinda wanted ta run ’im over with te car but then I thought it would crash me ride instead af that fatso. Oh you should've seen him Murph, he didn't even wear any fuckin pants."

"It's Daryl" the hunter growled and Connor looked at him. For just a moment, Daryl could see that flash of deep sadness and depression in the other man’s eyes again, but it disappeared the moment the Irishman turned his head. Instead of acknowledging his name or previous warnings, Connor chose to ignore them completely yet again. He simply kept talking about something else instead.

But something seemed to have come lose inside the guy after all, because after a couple more minutes of talking and not getting an answer, the Irishman eventually fell quiet with a little sigh. Daryl waited for a couple of minutes but it quickly became evident that the man next to him was done talking. Crazy and pathetic or not, even the blonde seemed to get the appropriateness of stopping his talk when the other showed no interest in the conversation. He went back to being moody and half out of it instead.

Daryl was actually surprised to notice that the newbie _really_ wouldn’t bother him anymore. He looked at him from time to time until he eventually growled. No matter how hard he tried to fight it: He was curious. He wanted to know what had happened to the guy to make him look so miserable and pathetic. Of course, Daryl wouldn't talk to him when the others were around because he didn't want them to get the wrong impression of him. After all, he wasn’t some sort of sissy like Rick who loved to stick his nose in other people's business all the time. But they were alone now. Just the two of them. He could get rid of the guy, shoot him in the ass, or he could in fact, just ask him right here and now without anybody else noticing that he had cared a bit. He let out a sigh and looked away to still make it less sincere.

"How did yah end up in that church anyway?" he mumbled and saw how Connor looked up.

"What?"

"What are yah, deaf? I asked yah prick how you ended up in that church. Geez" Daryl immediately snapped, mainly because he was a bit surprised by himself and how he’d really just started a conversation on his own with this weirdo.

Connor looked at him with a slight frown as if he couldn’t quite believe it either. Then he just scoffed and looked straight ahead.

"Came through te front door."

Daryl rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Fuck you" he just said and tried to walk a bit faster, immediately giving up, but Connor snickered and immediately eased up.

"Nah, just shitting ye. I heard some radio broadcast a while back. About Atlanta? So I took a car and drove down here. At least til I saw the church and decided ta pull over fer a bit."

"They got cars in Ireland?"

The Irishman narrowed his eyes.

"Fuck you."

Although he didn’t want to, Daryl actually smiled, if only just a tiny bit that he quickly hid. Annoying that he was, it was kind of funny to make fun of the Irish weirdo. They wouldn't speak for a while, but curiosity held Daryl in a tight grip.

"Is it the same over there?" he eventually asked and Connor looked at him.

"Where?"

"What now, yah stupid as well? I mean Ireland, you dumbass."

Connor just shrugged and looked away again.

"Dunno, been years since me last visit."

Daryl scoffed.

"So what, you ain’t even a real leprechaun with gold nuggets and shit?"

Connor shoved him.

"Stop fuckin with my home country, ye prick. I was born in Ireland, but I’m fram Boston, alright. I came here more than 15 years ago."

“Yeah, well I don’t give a shit” Daryl simply retorted and fixed his eyes on what he thought could be tracks. He knelt down for a moment to examine them, only to find out that they belonged to an animal, not a little girl. He let out a grunt as he got back up and then walked on, zigzagging his way past the trees. After another long moment of awkward silence he eventually tried again.

"So what’s the deal with this Murphy guy and the picture? He ditch yah back at the church or something?"

Connor wouldn't answer this. Daryl turned his head a little to see the other man’s reaction, but the Irishman actually shut down _completely_. There was a hardened almost blank look on his face that made it impossible for the hunter to read him. The silence went on for a good minute, and although Daryl had been somewhat hoping for an answer regarding the whole ‘lookalike’ thing, he eventually gave up and scoffed.

"Fine, whatever."

They didn't speak for a while until the hunter actually felt a bit bad about the whole thing. For whatever reason. He figured that whoever his doppelganger had been, the guy had probably lost him just like they had lost people of their own by now. So he eventually decided to give it another try, change the subject to keep talking to at least make _some_ sense of this strange Irish weirdo.

"Atlanta's done by the way. We come from there. 's all overrun" he informed him neutrally and Connor turned his head to look at him.

"Really?"

Daryl nodded.

"Why do yah think we're running around here now. Just tryin t'find some place t'stay. As soon as we've found the kid."

Connor scratched his beard and frowned.

"What happened t'that kid anyway?”

Daryl shrugged and checked out another trace he figured could belong to the girl, but of course it actually didn’t.

"What do yah think happened. We were on the highway when a herd passed us. Kid got scared and ran away. Now we're tryin t'get her back."

Connor raised an eyebrow.

"And you think yer gonna find her."

Daryl frowned and gave the Irishman an annoyed look.

"It ain't the mountains of Tibet, it's Georgia. She'll be howled off in a farmhouse somewhere. People get lost, they survive. Happens all the time."

The Irishman scoffed and looked away.

"Not always."

There was silence for a while and the hunter glared at their newest member from time to time yet again. He understood that the man had been talking about his past. Although he was still curious he didn't bother asking him about it again, simply because he knew that it would be useless. The guy wasn’t going to talk about it. And even if he would, there was no way he was going to show any interest in the weirdo again. They had talked way too much already. He hadn't meant to start a real conversation with the newbie. He didn't want to talk to him, get to know him. Mainly because the guy was creepy, weird, annoying, and shouldn’t become a part of their group. He wasn’t part of their group. He was out here with him _to get rid of him_. He cursed himself for having done exact opposite and immediately stopped talking.

They kept walking in silence until they saw a little campsite up front,right next to a large tree. When they got closer they could see that the branches started shaking. Daryl pointed his flashlight and the tree and frowned with a confused "What the hell?”. Connor looked up to see what was going on as well. There was a walker hanging in the tree with flesh missing from his legs, looking like a scary Halloween ornament. It certainly wasn’t a flattering sight. It was upsetting and actually pretty disgusting to see that much half eaten flesh, muscle tissue and even bones swinging not too far from their faces. The walker started moving and snarling a lot more the moment he saw them. The snarls where suffocated by the rope around his neck but it only seemed to make him more aggressive. His dead hands tried to reach out and scratch them almost desperately from up there, making his half eaten legs swing even more in the air. Daryl saw a piece of paper nailed to the tree and started reading.

"Got bit. Fever hit. World gone to shit. Might as well quit."

Connor scoffed.

"Wow, we've got fuckin Shakespeare here" he muttered but then pulled a face when the undead’s stench started to creep up on them with all his movements.

"Dumbass didn't know enough to shoot himself in the head" Daryl went on and then pointed his flashlight at the bloody feet. “Turned himself into a big swinging piece of bait. And a mess.”

Maggots. There were maggots crawling all over the fleshy half eaten calves. Connor could see them when the beam of the flashlight hit. He usually didn’t care much and had seen his fair share of blood and guts in his life, but now that he was starving, sick, dehydrated and exhausted, it was enough to make him gag. He started coughing and turned away from the sight, looking down at the ground instead.

Daryl turned around and looked at him with a frown.

"What's up with yah now?"

Connor growled.

"Shut te fuck up, I'm fuckin sick. Think I gotta puke."

Daryl snorted and turned around again.

"Ain't you a pussy."

"Shut up, I didn't eat anything fer four fuckin days."

He looked at the walker again.

"Well that's one thing these walkers and us have in common. I guess it's the closest he's been to food since he turned. Look at him, hanging up there like a big pinata. The other geeks came and ate all the flesh off his legs."

Daryl turned around to face Connor when he heard how the Irishman started throwing up.

"You fuckin sick shit I said I was trying ta keep the last bit of fuckin stomach contents in me" the blonde complained as he shakily wiped his mouth. He then tried to take a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, gently placing his hand on his belly.

The hunter smirked a tiny bit and shrugged as he focused on the walker again.

"Well call that payback for annoying the crap outta me for the past hour with all yer bullshit."

"Fuck ye, I was just tryin ta make friends."

Daryl scoffed.

"Friends. Yah wish" he growled and turned around to leave.

Connor got up and frowned.

"Hey, what about that fucker, shouldn't we shoot him?"

The hunter turned around and frowned as well. Connor was pointing at the walker who was still hanging in the trees, snarling and fighting thin air.

"No. He ain't hurting nobody. Ain't gonna waste an arrow either."

Connor searched his clothes until he suddenly produced a weapon out of nowhere, which started Daryl a bit and instinctively made him point his crossbow at him in his defense, thinking that the guy was going to snap now, erratic that he was.

"Well then it's a fucking bullet. Every fuckin stinking thing we take out is a problem less" the Irishman snarled and turned around, taking aim at the walker, not Daryl, who immediately darted forward. "What are yah, some sorta psycho? Yah ain't shooting that gun!” he spat and tried to slap the weapon out of the Irishman’s hand angrily. “The noise’s just gonna bring more of ‘em and it’s a fuckin waste of ammo! He made his choice. Opted out. Let him hang."

"No, that fucker needs ta fucking die, Murph!" Connor said, eyes changed completely to a point where he looked absolutely insane and dangerous yet again. He would not let go of the gun when Daryl tried to take it. The Irishman kept his spiteful eyes fixed on the undead in the tree.

"I fuckin told ya, it's Daryl!" the hunter exclaimed angrily and successfully snatched the gun out of Connor’s hands when he tried to take aim. Daryl then shoved the Irishman and kicked his leg. "I said no gunshots, yah freak!" he spat and then aimed his crossbow at the walker, pulling the trigger to kill him with an arrow. Then things finally quietened down a bit. Daryl’s heart was still pounding in his chest because for a moment he’d _really_ thought the guy was going to shoot him.

"There yah have it now, happy? Stupid freak. Wastin an arrow like that. Should've shot yah instead!" Daryl shouted and turned around to leave. He was incredibly furious with the guy, but even angrier with himself. _See, this is whatcha get for talkin t’this weirdo and thinkin he might be cool after all_ , he told himself and scoffed angrily. He’d obviously been very fucking wrong about this guy. He certainly wasn’t alright at all if he could suddenly snap like that from one moment to the next, swinging guns he’d hidden from them just because of one stupid walker. _Where the fuck had he gotten that gun from anyway? Rick and Shane had taken one off him back at the church to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt anybody, and here he was, gun wielding freakshow. He could’ve shot anyone up until now. Carol, Andrea, even him. Right back inside the RV when they’d been trying to rest. The Irish nutjob was a ticking time bomb. Fucking hell_.

When he turned around he could see that Connor wasn’t even following him anymore. He just stood there, still in the same spot, not moving at all as he stared up at the shot and hung walker in the tree. Standing and staring. A complete nutter indeed. Daryl walked on for a moment, already moving pretty far away from the other man, who still wouldn’t follow. Eventually, the hunter did slow down though, yelling back.

"What now, yah gonna stay here? Better fuckin do! I'm leavin, have a shitty life you whacko!"

For a couple of seconds he really believed that the Irishman would stay there. But of course. He wouldn’t. He startled and turned around to look at Daryl when he noticed that he’d been yelled at from pretty far away. It was no real surprise that he immediately started jogging after him, but the hunter still rolled his eyes angrily and quickly got going again, hoping that the Irishman would fail to catch up to him.


	5. Remembrance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First bit of Murphy background story. What happened the day he got bit.  
>  **timeline:** episode 4 - " _Cherokee Rose_ "

He was awoken by the shaking of the RV the next morning, not really sure when he’d fallen asleep, or how long he’d been asleep for. Connor blinked a couple of times and shifted a bit, only slowly turning to the side. The bright sunlight hit him square in the face, only making him blink harder. He really felt like shit. Even more so than how he’d felt yesterday. He still had the worst headache in his life from the dehydration and hunger, but he was almost used to it by now.

The Irishman let out a little grunt and then slowly sat up, rubbing his left eye with the heel of his tattooed hand. After a moment, realization suddenly hit him and he quickly turned his head left and right, frantically searching for his brother, until he fixed his eyes on what was going on outside.

The RV was driving down a gravel path that lead to a farmhouse and barn in the distance. They were currently riding along a curve, which allowed Connor to see who was having the lead of their little convoy. There was an ugly green compact SUV with Andrea behind the wheel, but that one wasn’t important. Daryl was driving right in front of her, riding his motorcycle. _That_ mattered. For a short moment, Connor actually didn’t know how to breathe when he saw it.

There where huge angel wings on his back.

Well, they weren’t _really_ wings. They were made of a white dirty fabric, sewn onto an equally dirty leather vest. Probably a biker gang tag or something. Just a vest. But still.

 _Wings_.

There was no way in hell that this wasn’t a sign. Religion. God. Saints. Angels. Wings.

One of the guys they’d killed in Ireland had called them angels once. Vengeful angels, sent by god to punish him.

The wings were the definite proof.

This man _was_ Murphy.

He was a saint, too.

Connor smiled a little, trying to balance the bumpy ride out as he kept his eyes fixed on the wings for as long as he could until they exited the curve and approached the farmhouse instead. It was then when the Irishman finally turned his head and looked at Carol, who was sitting across from him and on the other side of the RV kitchen table. She was staring out of the window, too, but not in Daryl’s direction. She was still searching the surrounding area and woods for her daughter with desperate and sad eyes.

“G’d morning” he tried to greet her politely and neutrally. She startled once, sniffing and then quickly wiping her cheek.

“Morning” she just muttered but it didn’t exactly sound proper or interested.

“How long was I out fer?” Connor simply asked in order to not have to ask about any disappearances and other sad occurrences that surrounded them everywhere now.

“Quite a while” she answered with a tiny smile and looked down. “You went to sleep as soon as you and Daryl returned without….” Swallowing hard, she quickly looked outside the window again. “We went looking for Sophia in the early morning hours. It’s almost noon now and Dale thought it would be best to regroup at the farm the woman talked about yesterday.”

Connor looked outside again and nodded softly, his lips forming a thin and pale line.

 _At least 10 hours of sleep. Wow. Without the fuckin nightmare. Knocked out cold_.

He honestly didn’t even remember the last time he hadn’t had those awful constant flashbacks and that one particular dream that kept torturing him every night. He didn’t remember the last time he’d slept for more than maybe three hours a night either. Even now he felt a suppressed deep panic growing in his stomach just thinking about his usual nights.

He eventually looked up ahead and, after leaning a bit to the right, he could eventually see Dale driving the RV, following the ugly SUV in front of them as they got closer and closer to the beautiful two story white farmhouse. He couldn’t see Murphy right now because of the green vehicle in front of them, but knowing that he and the angel wings were there, was enough for him to feel a bit better, a bit more relaxed. He truly was a sign. He truly was Murphy, and he truly was the reason why the nightmares had stopped. Because he was _there_. Around him. Close to him. _Breathing._

When they reached the farm and stopped their small convoy the Irishman almost immediately got up so he could take a better look at the farmhouse. Letting Carol get out first, he eventually followed her down the steps, exited the RV and then just let the sight of it all sink it.

It smelled of hay, slightly burned grass and farm animals all around him. The sun was burning hot high up in the sky, in fact, he could even _smell_ the heat. The buzzing of insects all over the fields was all too familiar, and for a moment Connor actually closed his puffy eyes, breathed in deeply, and then let the air flood out through his nostrils. Although less green and a lot less cold and rainy, this place immediately reminded him of home, of Ireland, his old farmlife there.

Maybe everything was slowly getting better again after all. Just maybe.

"How is he?" Dale suddenly asked close to Connor and snapped him out of it.

The Irishman opened his eyes and now focused on the people surrounding him instead. Rick, Lori, T-Dog, Shane and Glenn had exited the farmhouse along with a few other people he didn’t recognize but who he figured were the owners of the farm. A young man, a young blonde haired woman, a slightly older woman with short brown hair, and an old man and a third woman who maybe were their parents came walking down the porch and observed them curiously, looking slightly worried at the same time.

Connor looked at them for a moment until he eventually fixed his eyes on his brother’s lookalike again, who’d just gotten off his bike and stood a bit further away from everyone. The Irishman slowly and inconspicuously tried to get closer to him.

Lori and Rick started smiling at Dale in the meantime.

"He'll pull through. Thanks to Herschel and his people and.." Lori said and Rick interrupted her.

"And Shane. We'd have lost Carl if not for him."

They all looked at Shane and seemed equally surprised by his appearance. He suddenly looked _very_ different. He wore farmer’s clothes that didn't fit. His hair was cut extremely short, to a point where it almost looked like he was bald. Connor raised an eyebrow when he saw the policeman. Somewhere deep inside of him, his old self had just tried to make fun of the guy’s look in his thoughts, thinking about clichés like inbreed rednecks and dumb farmers which he knew were not true but that were funny nevertheless. But he wouldn’t smirk and stopped himself in the midst of this train of thoughts because then he suddenly remembered his own shabby appearance. Shakily grabbing an outgrown and greasy strand of ash blonde hair, he observed the state of his own growth with a harder frown. He knew that he could definitely use a haircut himself. He let go of the strand and quickly wiped his hands on his already incredibly dirty jeans. He then focused on the group again only to see how Rick and Dale and Carol and Lori hugged each other tightly, obviously relieved over the great news.

Connor smiled a tiny bit and decided to close the final distance between himself and Daryl.

"Y’know what, I'd fancy a hug as well, Murph. ‘m real glad yer in one piece, too" he said, straining his luck as he tried to hug his brother’s lookalike to keep the pretend game up, but Daryl just scoffed and moved out of his way angrily.

"Go and hug a tree then, freak" he growled and walked away.

Connor just stood and stared after him, lips pressed together once more as he harshly put his hands on his hips and then looked down, trying to keep it together.

 _He’s real, he’s real, he’s real. It’s him it’s him it’s him_ he repeated in his head over and over again like a mantra. _He’s just mad at ye because of what ye did back in Boston and because ye left him behind._

"How did it happen?" Dale asked Rick somewhere behind him and Connor gladly took the conversation as welcome distraction.

"Hunting accident. That's all. Just a stupid accident."

He looked at everyone and smirked.

"I'm glad you're all back. Let's gather our things and put up a new camp. After that we have to bury a member of Hershel's family. Otis. He didn't make it."

Another burial. Another death and disappearance. How fucking great.

Most of their group got moving to start parking their cars and setting up their camp.

"I'm gonna go back inside, look after your boy and leave you to it" the farmer called Hershel announced and moved his family along to do as he’d said. After a short moment of cluelessly standing in the way, Connor decided on following the man instead. He quickly moved up the stairs to catch up to him and Rick.

“I see you’re doing better today” Rick immediately greeted him with a slightly confused frown. Hershel slowed down a bit as well to curiously eye the man who’d just stepped foot on his porch without asking.

"Aye, I am, thanks fer taking me in” Connor quickly said and immediately fixed his eyes on Hershel instead. “But I actually came here because I wanted ta ask _you_ , sir, fer a small favor" the Irishman said and the old man seemed rather surprised. Rick suddenly placed a hand on Connor's arm and smiled.

"Herschel, this is Connor. We only just found him in a church not too far from here yesterday."

The old farmer eyed the Irishman with a frown and it made Connor feel uncomfortable.

"Aye, that’s me. Beautiful houses of worship ye got here, sir. Thanks fer letting us stay here” he said and offered the man a hand to shake it out of habit. Hershel reluctantly took the hand and didn’t exactly seem too fond of any of this, _especially_ of how dirty and unkempt the man opposite him was. Connor took note of this once more and scratched the back of his head a bit awkwardly.

“I was just wondering if there's any chance I could use yer bathroom? I saw ye let Shane cut his hair and as you can see, I desperately need a little shave and a haircut as well. It’s just been a couple rough months fer me. 'm sorry if it's too much to ask, I just need a mirror and a pair of scissors. If it’s not trouble"

Herschel eyed him a little while longer, looking more and more displeased. He seemed to ease up just a tiny bit more when his eyes came to a halt on the Irishman’s rosaries around his neck. He eventually turned around and muttered, much to Connor’s and even Rick’s surprise, a slightly grumpy "Follow me" as he stepped inside his house to let the blonde in.

* * *

 

Connor stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was the first time he really saw his true reflection in literal months. Whenever he’d passed a window or mirror the many times before, he’d purposely ignored the image, looked right past it. He’d only been used to the look of his own ice cold blue eyes from all the staring in a rearview mirror during his drive down here, and that had been way enough already.

The eyes were the same.  
That hurt like hell.

Not just because they were familiar, but mostly because he knew that he was staring into the eyes of a traitor. The eyes _Murphy_ had looked into when he’d done the unspeakable to him.

And here he was.

Staring at himself. His full reflection.

It was kind of ridiculous to see how much his hair and beard had grown in just 2 ½ months. Well maybe it had been more. Prison and the escape from there, that’s when it had started already. The no time for taking care of their haircuts. The constant rush and running from danger. Theoretically, he’d had plenty of time to take care of himself after Boston. There had been many many lonely and monotonous days of basically doing nothing, or doing little of the same things every day. Like driving around in the car. Staring holes in the air. Walking around aimlessly. That sort of thing.

But there had been no reason for him to do anything about his appearance. In a way, he’d wanted himself to suffer physically as well. Not in a way of hurting himself. That was against his promise and against his religion. But letting everything go downhill had been some sort of justifiable physical suffering as well. Or maybe that had just been part of his subconscious plot to become another one of all these walking dead people.

Now there actually was a need for him to take care of himself again. He needed to get those people’s trust so he could stay with them, stay with Murphy. He needed to become his old self again. Charming _fucking_ charming and oh so ‘trustworthy’ Connor MacManus. The guy with a following et all.

Connor took the razor he’d been given, looked at it with his tiny, puffy eyes, fixed them on the sharp metal blades for a second too long until he finally placed the razor on his left cheek and started shaving. Inch by inch the stubbles were slowly disappearing under the steady motion of his hand. Looking up a bit, Connor started to slide the razor down his throat to get rid of the long stubble there, momentarily halting the motion just above his Adam’s apple.

It was so ridiculously fucking easy to end a life. After all, he’d taken so many already. Just a little more pressure, just a single slice, and there would be a shitton of blood.

_Each day we will spill their blood ‘til it rains down from the skies. **Do not kill** , do not rape, to not steal._

_Suicide’s a sin Connor.  
Don’t kill yourself. Promise._

The older MacManus twin swallowed hard, making his Adam’s apple bop dangerously close to the blade. Then he went back to shaving his beard, maybe it bit faster than usual just to get the blade away from his throat. Now that he was moving to the sides of his throat, something else started to come back to the surface instead.

Dark blue ink.

A halo.

A holy figure.

The tattoo on the left side of his neck. One of the _two_ tattoos he dreaded the most now because they were a constant reminder of that other person who’d had the exact same ones. The beard was disappearing, his hairy cover was slowly gone. For months now, he’d somewhat successfully managed to hide behind all that hair, pretend to be someone else. The beard had done a fine job covering the tattoo up. The dirty bandage had done the rest with the cross on his arm. Connor MacManus, the man with those tattoos, had disappeared along with his brother. Now, there was nothing there to conceal that past anymore, nothing there to keep him hidden.

For a moment, he once again trailed off and thought about the whole cutting business. Not because he wanted to hurt or kill himself. That wasn’t on the table. But he actually thought about getting rid of the tattoo. Cutting it away. Thought about erasing that trace in an other way if he couldn’t keep the beard. Staring at himself for a good minute, he eventually decided against it.

No.  
He needed that reminder.  
He needed that past, that memory.  
Their first tattoo together.  
They both’d had it, and now he was the only one left with it.  
He needed to carry it for them both.

Connor finished shaving quickly and then almost manically got rid of the longer strands of hair, desperately trying to get his old look back, cutting his hair shorter. He’d once been so proud of his appearance, keeping it clean and steady. A bit of the old and cool movie legends, a bit of the old high school stuff, just enough to look ‘cooler’ than Murphy while still keeping his mother proud.

It was a good thing to see that old look come back so quickly after it had taken so many months to disappear. Washing his face with water from the sink, he soon was able to watch the dirt rush away along with the last remnants of hair of this temporary new self. He had hated all the looks the group had given him for the past 24 hours, had hated to see all that fear and mistrust in their eyes. Now that he thought about it, even he hadn't been able to trust or like this other, dirtier self.

Now that the beard, the long strands and all the dirt were gone, he had to realize something else and totally unexpected as well. He looked _very_ malnourished and unhealthy. He was in a worse shape than he’d thought. Murphy’d always said that he kind of had cheekbones like a girl or something. Now he could actually see them. Sticking out, only covered by sickly ashen skin. Now he really looked bony and way too skinny.

_Jesus Christ. No wonder Murphy called him a whacko._

The Irishman turned around to search for the pair of fresh clothes he had placed on the chair next to the shower. They were just as ugly as the ones Shane was wearing. He was grateful for the gesture, though, so Connor decided to at least wear _something_ the girls had offered him. Keeping his dirty jeans on, he changed out of his dusty and holey shirt that smelled way too awkward to put on the simple plaid farmer’s shirt.

One more layer, shed. Revealing his true shape.

He almost didn’t want to look at himself now, in this final shape with new clean clothes and the final haircut. And yet, he did.

The old, softly spiky haircut was back. His normal face was there, with just traces of thin stubble.  
And yet, he _wasn’t_ there.

The eyes of a dead man were still greeting him with a cold and seemingly indifferent stare.

* * *

 

They all gathered around a pile of stones that they were piling up underneath a tree not too far away from the farmhouse. Connor didn't even know what was going on, who was being buried or what exactly had happened to the man, but he joined them nevertheless. He figured that he needed to do anything he could do to repay his debt both to the group that had taken him in and the family who was living here on this farm.

He didn’t like to attend a funeral because it meant that yet another death had happened in such a short time. But in a way, he liked that there was someone reading from the bible at least, passages he knew by heart because he’d repeated them so many times in his head. It was a good thing to know that Hershel and his entire family were religious just like him. In a way, that was comforting, too. Kept him on the good side of things because it was a simple but effective reminder of his promise, his upbringing, his philosophy on life and death. Connor had his now clean shaven chin pressed to his chest as he prayed along Hershel with his eyes closed, and once they were done he looked up while crossing himself, looked straight towards his brother’s lookalike.

Daryl stood there, among the group but far opposite him and just eyed him with a frown. He kept his arms folded in front of his chest and wouldn’t pray with them. He didn’t seem to be interested in any religious aspect at all, but the Irishman kept telling himself all about the angel wings and _the sign_ in his head to stop his mind from drifting into dangerous _real_ territory. The fact that Daryl was suddenly clean and not covered in grime and dirt was a great help there. Just like all the others the hunter had used the opportunity of being on this farm to clean himself up a bit. Now and more than ever, he looked _exactly_ like Murphy, making the pretend, the transition, the illusion complete. Connor really flew over the edge with the clean look of the other man, already fragile mind slipping beyond repair, actually making him _believe_ his illusions once and for all.

He gave the man, _Murphy,_ a little content smile and then turned his head to the side to listen on, to concentrate on what Hershel had to say about this man called Otis.

* * *

 

Daryl was actually really surprised to see the guy like that, so suddenly, so _different_. No matter what the Irishman’d done, it was definitely a big improvement compared to what he had looked like when they had found him, had looked like just an hour ago. The man opposite him didn’t look like some pathetic homeless guy anymore, although the borrowed plaid shirt still looked ridiculous on his skinny, starved figure. Now that the Irish weirdo wasn’t staring at him, Daryl allowed himself to scan the guy head to toe, actually allowed himself study the way Connor looked like without the apocalyptic end of the world feel connected to it.

The ugly beard was gone. That was the biggest improvement. Because it made the man look so much younger. He definitely was his age. Early/mid thirties. With the stubble, dirt and bandage out of the way, Daryl was surprised to actually spot more tattoos on him as well. A weird thing on his neck that he couldn’t quite make out from the distance, and a large Celtic cross on his left forearm which had been hidden by the bandage the guy’d had for whatever reason. The beard had been reduced to a more natural and well-kempt thin line of stubble along his boney jaw. The messy hair was kept a lot shorter again, the shortest along his neck and ears until he’d let it gradually be longer all the way up to the top so it could stick up in every direction.

_Yep. Definitely the typical high school pretty boy scumbag bully type. Used to getting laid a lot, full of himself, all that crap._

And yet, the eyes told an entirely different story. Although the looks suggested it, the guy wasn’t smug, still didn’t seem to give a damn about himself at all. His eyes looked as dead as the tree stump behind him. Connor seemed to sense that he was being watched, because he suddenly raised his head and looked right back at him. After a second of unfiltered staring, the blonde immediately put his act up again. The creepy one with the smiling at him and pretending that they knew each other, were friends even.

_Back to whacko world._

Daryl scoffed, folded his arms and looked away with a slight headshake, pretending to listen to the old man’s talk.

"Blessed be God, father our lord Jesus Christ. Praise be to him for the gift of our brother Otis. For his span of years, for his abundance of character. Otis, who gave his life to save a child's, now more than ever, our most precious asset. We thank you, God, for the peace he enjoys in your embrace. He died as he lived. In grace" Hershel spoke, and the smile on Connor’s face immediately disappeared. He paled instead and swallowed hard, because he knew they were reaching dangerous territory now.

 _'t wasn't graceful. It was a fuckin nightmare_ he thought and shook his head angrily.  
_No, he wouldn't think about it. Nothing had happened. Murphy was standing right in front of him._

"Shane, will you speak for Otis?" Herschel asked and Shane looked up in surprise. Everybody, including Connor and Daryl, looked at the Sheriff Deputy curiously. Shane looked back at them for a moment and seemed unsure. Although Connor hadn’t been with the group for too long yet, even he could already sense that something was different about the man, that something was off.

"I'm not good at it. I'm sorry" Shane answered and looked down.

The blonde woman, who Connor had learned wasn’t the girls’ mother but Otis’ wife, had a hard time battling tears but still spoke up, looking at the deputy desperately.

"You were the last one with him. You shared his final moments. Please. I need to hear. I need to know his death had meaning" she pleaded and immediately started crying again. Connor closed his eyes for a moment fought hard to keep it together.

_Why the fuck did everything have to do with death and disappearances in this group? He’d driven hundreds of miles to get away from that shit for Christ’s sakes._

Counting backwards from ten to one in five different languages, Connor battled the flashbacks he could already feel coming with violent force.

"Okay" Shane whispered and looked down again, sealing the unfortunate deal for Connor, too.

"We were about done. Almost out of ammo. We were down to pistols by then."

The Irishman snapped his eyes open, looked up and stared at Shane in horror. He wasn’t even able to tell anymore if this was real, if this was his mind playing tricks on him, or if this was god punishing him for his deeds by reminding him of it _again_ , forcefully. Shane was talking about Boston.

Shane was talking about _Murphy_.

_There were thousands of them, roaming the streets of Boston._

_They were trying to make their way out of the city, but they knew it was pretty much impossible, that it was chaos, that this was the true end of the world._

_"Come on, run faster ye bastard, they're fuckin everywhere!" Connor shouted and waited for his brother to get back, cursing himself for not having kept his eyes on his sibling for a moment. How the fuck had Murphy managed to get this far away from him, from the harbor entrance? Why the fuck had he walked down that street, entered the city again?_

_Murphy was running and zigzagging his way through the crowds of undead that were slowly coming closer with deafening and creepy monotonous moans. Murphy finally drew his two pistols to start shooting, knowing that he no longer had to bother thinking about the noise they were going to make in a dead city. The dead were already here. Running faster, Murphy shot two walkers behind him as he tried to close the distance between himself and his brother._

_"Don't waste our fuckin ammo! We haven't got much left! And we're only half way outta te city!" Connor yelled and started running towards his brother so he could get him and help him, killing walkers with his machete on his way._

_"Go back! Get te fuckin car! I got yer back Con. We're almost fucking there! Just go!" Murphy roared and really got into the fight, dropping more and more walkers._

_Connor came to an abrupt halt and watched his brother in horror, incredibly worried. He wanted to stay close to him and protect him from the threat, but knew that Murphy was right. If he went back there now as well, there was a chance they could get surrounded, that they would get nowhere. He was closest to the car and really needed to get it so they could get the hell away from the pier, out of Boston, find someplace safe. Maybe he could use it to draw them towards him instead, run a few of them over and then drive towards Murphy to get to him faster._

_Turning on his heels, Connor started sprinting back towards the pier, the car there, head spinning with thoughts, the dread, the panic._

_Why was this happening to them? How could this happen so quickly? How could everything spin out of control so crazy fast?_

_Just a moment ago, this place had been deserted. And now this was happening. More and more of the undead were coming, crawling out of the buildings, coming around the corners, closing in on them. They were behind the barricades and fences as well, proving to Connor what he’d already pretty much suspected anyway. Black Falcon was overrun just like the rest of this city. The rumours of boats leaving town had probably made it a whole lot worse around here. People just like them had come here before, only to be bitten, only to get turned, only adding up to the numbers. The refugee camp was overrun._

_This was probably the most dangerous place in all of Boston._

_And they were right here._

_Fighting his way past three undead as he tried to get to their car, Connor cursed when his weapon got stuck in one of the walkers’ heads. Losing grip of the machete, the older MacManus twin finally drew his guns to start shooting as well. Making even more noise. Drawing even more of them in. It made him incredibly angry. He was kind of used to their plans not going the way they wanted them to go. But this was **so** off. This was so wrong. This was incredibly fucking dangerous and **insane**_ **.**

_"'t was yer fuckin idea ta come here!" Connor yelled angrily, aiming it back at Murphy. He kicked the walker who still got the machete stuck in her head._

_Damn right this had been Murphy’s stupid plan this time, to go to this part of the city after all. They should’ve gone in the other direction. They should’ve made their way over to the Charles River. They should’ve taken this stupid car and gotten the hell out of Boston instead of going further and further into the city center._

_We should've known. I should've known. After everything we went through t'get here, **I should've known**. _

_The older MacManus was just about to yell at his brother again when he suddenly heard Murphy's agonized scream echo through the streets somewhere behind him._

"I was limping. It was bad. Ankle all swollen up" Shane was saying in the here and now, but Connor couldn’t snap out of it.

_He was carrying Murphy up the stairs of the empty building just around the corner. Connor heard the walkers knocking on the steel doors downstairs but they wouldn't get in, couldn’t get in, because it was locked and there was a cupboard in front of it. The older twin was crying and shouting at the world like a complete madman as he carried his younger half up the stairs. Crashing through another door, he shot another walker who’d been lingering just behind it, slammed the door shut with his leg, and then ran inside the abandoned apartment so he could lie Murphy down somewhere._

_Out of all places, he had picked a shitty **fucking** artist’s loft with little to no furniture other than a filthy sink, basic tiny kitchen and a folding chair. There were some old and moldy cardboard boxes and newspapers scattered all over the ground but that was it. Incredibly panicked, Connor did multiple spins with bloody Murphy still in his arms as he desperately searched for medical equipment, knowing very fucking well that his time was running out rapidly._

_Murphy suddenly gargled in his arms, which left Connor no other choice but to immediately kneel down so he could lie his brother on the cold ground, praying to god that a more stable position would help._

_"No, no no fuckin way, don't ye die on me Murph!" he screamed in his face, helplessly, as he frantically tried to get rid of the ripped fabric all around Murphy’s bloody shoulder. Ripping his brother’s shirt apart with surprising force as he hoped to be able to use it as makeshift bandage, Connor was shocked when saw the extent of Murphy’s wound. Flesh was missing not just from his shoulder, but from his neck, too. That was the reason for the heavy bleeding, and the sight of it nearly made Connor pass out. The wound was deep. The flesh, veins and muscles were twisted from the bite and torn skin. The blood was seeping, it was everywhere, quickly soaking not just Murphy’s clothes, but his hands and his very own shirt and jeans as well._

"'We've got to save the boy.' see, that's what he said. He gave me his backpack. He shoved me ahead. 'Run' he said. _He said 'I'll take the rear. I'll cover you._ '" Shane said and Connor just stared.

_"Go back! Get te fuckin car! I got yer back Con. We're almost fucking there! Just go!"_

That's what Murphy had said when they'd tried to get past all the walkers. Right before a walker had bit him.

"And when I looked back..." Shane went on and got more confident.

 _Connor heard Murphy's agonized sudden scream and turned around in horror. A walker was right behind his brother, biting his neck and chewing on his flesh. The undead really_ clung _to Murphy, biting down more and more, which made the younger MacManus scream louder and louder. Murphy tried to fight the undead off but couldn't. Flailing helplessly with his arms swinging and punching at thin air, the black-haired twin quickly realized that this was something he couldn’t get out of, that this was something that was going to kill him if he didn’t get help_ right now _. More walkers were already closing in on him, ready to claw at his flesh, disembowel him, eat him alive. Murphy screamed louder and widened his eyes in horror and panic, until the scream transformed into a deafening and desperate "CONNOR!" that seemed to echo through all of Boston._

_Murphy managed to turn both himself and the walker around so he could face his brother with wide and panicked eyes. The walker bit down harder and Murphy squeezed his eyes shut in pure agony, accompanied by yet another incredibly bone chilling scream, really struggling and bucking and fighting like a crazed animal now._

**_Never_ ** _in his life had Connor ever heard his twin make that noise. It was utterly utterly horrifying for him, and just for a second, the utter shock kept him locked in place, made him unable to move or react as he watched the scenario unfold with wide eyes. When he could finally react, an equally loud and agonized "NO! MURPH!" escaped the older MacManus’ lips._

_Connor really screamed at the top of his lungs as he fell into a mad sprint, desperate to get to his siblings aid. "NO!" he screamed once more, even louder as he mindlessly started shooting his way through the crowd of undead so he could get to Murphy in time, could shoot the walker and **stop** him from tearing Murphy’s shoulder apart right in front of him. Everything seemed to happen within the blink of an eye. ZAP. There he was, right next to Murphy, shooting the undead creature in the head, ripping him away from his brother with surprising force, dropping him to the ground like a wet piece of cloth._

_ZAP. Here he was. Standing right in front of Murphy, who stood there opposite him, just looked at him with these wide, mad eyes. Utter shock was written all over their faces. They both were_ utterly _**terrified**. In the meantime, the undead creature fell down to the ground, a piece of flesh from Murphy's shoulder still in his mouth. For a few seconds, Murphy stood perfectly still and kept his shaking hand pressed to his neck, with blood seeping through his fingers. Then, a single and shocked gasp escaped his mouth - and his legs gave in. _

_Almost dropping to the ground, Connor barely managed to catch him, for he was locked in a deeply shocked state as well._

_"NO! OH MY FUCKING GOD! NO!" Connor pressed out as he caught his younger sibling. Pressing his shaky hand to Murphy’s neck, he couldn’t process anything other than the mad groans all around him and the sticky wetness that started to paint his shaking hand red between them. Both their clothes were drenched within seconds as Connor desperately tried to throw his twin over his shoulder so he could carry him. With the groans and moans and stench of rotting flesh closing in on them, Connor was snapped out of it enough to understand that he really needed to take Murphy away, get the both of them some place safe because he knew they’d be dead in less than ten seconds otherwise. He could hear how the walkers were closing in on them, and his mind went completely blank._

_"You motherfuckers! You fuckin bastards I’m gonna fuckin kill you!" Connor screamed at the top of his lungs as he started running and shooting their way out of this._

He barely remembered his outburst now, only remembered how he kept screaming and killing until they reached that steel door around the corner. He remembered all the blood and running as fast as he could although he’d been barely able to see anything, considering all the mad and desperate tears that had started flowing.

Connor swallowed hard and tried to fight the tears now, too.

Remembering hurt so much.

Sniffing once, he quickly looked away from the grave and to the side until he fixed his eyes on Daryl again.

_He's right in front of ye, stupid. Nothing fuckin happened. Yer nat going ta cry like a pussy now. There’s no fuckin reason fer it._

Connor swallowed once more and stilled, managing to keep it in. It felt so fucking _good_ to see his brother right there, although he was pretty confused now.

Maybe the outbreak had just hit him too hard. Maybe his mind was a lot more fragile than he’d ever thought. Maybe he really _was_ crazy and didn’t know what was real and what was fake anymore. He’d had nightmares about losing Murphy all his life. That was just natural, given their incredibly co-dependent relationship. He’d even been through this sort of thing before, the first couple of weeks after those Russians had nearly killed them both. Back then, he’d dreamed about seeing that bald Russian shoot Murphy right in his head just before his eyes - because he’d been too late to jump off the building. For the first bunch of nights, that dream had been so _real_ that just for a moment, he’d thought that maybe it _was_ real and that he was going crazy and that Murphy wasn’t really there in the bed next to him, that he had really died and that he was losing his mind over it.

But he’d made it through those first couple of days, and Murphy had really been there after all.

Maybe that was just like that. Maybe he just truly couldn’t remember how him and Murphy had gotten out of that undead mob, out of Boston. Maybe he just couldn’t remember how he’d lost Murphy and why he was back here now.

Because he _was_ here now. Right in front of him. Staring at him with an angry frown.

"If not for Otis, I'd never made it out alive. And that goes for Carl too. It was Otis."

Connor kept looking at Daryl and nodded slightly.

_If nat fer you, I'd never made it out of that church alive.  
If nat fer you, I’d have made a terrible mistake._

When Daryl saw how the Irishman was staring at him he narrowed his eyes even more and started growling. He stopped folding his arms and turned on his heels instead to walk away, fed up with all of this.

"He saved us both. If any death ever had meaning it was his" Shane said and ended his speech by putting a stone on Otis' grave.

* * *

 

They were setting up their camp and tents. Connor tried to help Daryl with his first but the hunter just kept shouting at him and took the sticks away from him whenever he tried. The Irishman eventually let it be with a sigh. "What fuckin ever, you do yer shit then" he said because he was getting fed up with Daryl's behavior. It really made it hard for him to keep the illusion up, to really continue believing that he was Murphy. Because Murphy had never been such a fucking grumpy asshole.

Maybe they needed a break. Maybe Murphy needed some time to adjust to the fact that they were back together. So after another moment of staring and watching the hunter, Connor eventually turned around to help Carol and Andrea with their tent instead.

Once they were done setting up their camp it soon became pretty obvious that they didn't have a spare tent for Connor. The Grimes family had theirs, Shane and T-Dog another, Andrea and Carol shared a tent and Glenn and Dale were sleeping in the RV. Daryl was the only one no one had ever wanted to share a tent with. He'd also been the only one who'd _insisted_ on sleeping in his own tent all by himself, now that his brother Merle was gone. So the group came up with the solution.

"Connor’s gonna stay with Daryl" Rick said and Daryl looked up in disbelief.

"What? No freakin way! Ain't gonna let this nutjob anywhere near me" he protested almost immediately. Connor looked back at him with a tiny smirk that was half pleased, half annoyed. The hunter approached them, reminding them of a vicious circling dog once again. Lori looked at him with a little frown and shook her head.

"We can't have him sleep outside" she noted and Daryl scoffed.

"Why the hell would I care, he can sleep in the RV on the floor then, plenty of room in there."

"We can't have three people in the RV when you've got a big tent for yourself" Glenn muttered and the hunter got even angrier.

"You can keep yah mouth shut, Chink, nobody asked yah. There's no way he's gonna get his stupid ass in my tent."

Connor was still kind of busy helping Carol and Andrea. He watched the whole discussion curiously from afar, how Rick, Glenn, Lori and Dale were talking to his brother’s doppelganger by Rick’s car.

"It's not like you have to be with him all day, it's just so he has a place to sleep. Nobody forces you to like each other, but that's the way it is. If you want to be part of this group you have to stick to Rick's rules. There's no place for selfishness here. Grow up" Lori said and stared him down in what almost looked like disgust. Daryl raised an eyebrow at her and only scoffed once more.

"Listen, Olive Oil. I ain't gonna let no bitchy princess decide over me! Who the hell are yah anyway, thinkin yah can look down on me just cos you've got your husband and kid and your first class tent, huh? I'm done with this bullshit. I’m the one who puts food on your table. Got it? So you keep yah trap shut."

"That's enough" Rick spat and eyed Daryl.

"It's you and him in this tent. No discussion."

Both men looked at each other for a while until Daryl kicked the dirt and walked away yet again. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fight his respect for Rick. Because he had been the only one to go back for Merle in Atlanta. Rick had been the only one who had stood up for his brother and tried his best to save him when everybody else'd just given up. Rick was a man of honor and the leader of this group and Daryl knew it. "T'hell with yah people" he murmured angrily and walked away to move his stuff.

That was when Connor decided to join them, to have say in this as well.

"Look, it's alright. I can sleep outside if he doesn't want ta share his tent. He has every right ta be pissed at me, I get it. It's not like you guys owe me anything. Ye’ve done enough fer me already. I’ll just sleep by the fire."

Rick put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

"No, we can't have you sleep outside on nothing but dirt when we’ve got tents and blankets and even beds. You stay with him. Don't worry. Daryl might seem like a handful at first but he's alright once you get used to him. It’s just for the night. He’ll get used to it, too."

Connor smirked.

"Aye, ye don' have ta tell me."

* * *

 

For a couple of minutes, Connor had just watched Daryl again. How he moved his stuff about in his tent, walked back and forth between his motorbike and bag on the ground. Just like before, the hunter tried his hardest to ignore him, pretended that he wasn’t there. And for the longest time, they kept that act up. Then it was Connor who spoke up first yet again.  
  
"Look, I promise I won't be in yer way, okay. Won't snore, won't take yer sleepin bag. You get yer sleep, I get mine and everything's fine, aye Murph? It’s just fer the night" he tried and got moving so he could get to the tent as well.

Daryl scoffed angrily and sorted his stuff a little more aggressively.

"No matter what yah do, you just need t'breathe and yah already annoy the crap outta me, freakshow" he muttered, but then eventually glared at Connor.

"I didn't ask for this shit. The moment y’do anything stupid, you’re dead before yah know it."

Connor looked back at him and considered how he should react. The sane part of him told him that he should be wary. That maybe the guy was right, that this wasn’t going to work. But then the insane part kicked in and he just ended up scoffing.

“Yeah yeah, I gettit. Yer mad. I deserve it. If it happens, yer very welcome ta pull it through. I wouldn’t exactly blame ye. Now move yer ass so I can put me stuff in there" he said and simply got moving to get inside the tent with a little smirk on his face. “You and yer fuckin temper all the time, seriously, Murph. Chill the fuck out” he just muttered and started getting some stuff out of his duffle bag to make himself at home. Daryl just stared at him in disbelief, frozen in the spot for a moment.

 _How could this stupid idiot just ignore his threats so easily?_  
_How could he keep coming and smiling and laughing after everything he was doing to make him leave?_

The Irishman was smiling and started talking about random things as he sorted his belongings into the tent. Especially the whole smiling business and once again pretending that they knew each other made the hunter angry all over again. He didn't want any of this. He didn't want to hear Connor's stupid stories, he didn't want to have to endure all the attention the Irishman was giving him, he didn't want to have anything to do with this stupid Irish clown who couldn't keep his mouth shut.

He didn’t want them to be friends.  
He didn’t _have_ any friends, and he certainly didn’t plan on having any in the near future, knowing that this would never work out.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Daryl got back to ignoring the guy instead. But he already knew that sooner or later, that Irish nutjob was going to make him go crazy as well.

This whole thing was going to be a nightmare.

 


	6. Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 4, _Cherokee Rose_

Whereas Connor and Daryl were pretty much done with their tent the others were still busy making the place their new home. Rick, Shane, Andrea, Herschel, Daryl and Connor soon gathered around Rick's car to discuss their search for Sophia. Connor still didn't really know if they even wanted him to join and help them, but he just assumed that this was the case. He also just wanted something to do to keep his mind off things, and he really appreciated how the group did exactly that. They didn’t ask any questions. They just let him be part of this.

"How long has this girl been lost?" Herschel asked and Connor listened up curiously because he still didn't know much about Carol’s daughter and her disappearance.

"This will be day three" Rick answered and turned around when they saw Maggie, Herschel's daughter, coming to join them with a map. "County survey map. Shows terrain and elevations" she announced with a smile on her face which made Rick smile as well.

"This is perfect. We can finally get this thing organized. We'll grid the whole area, start searching in teams."

Herschel shook his head then.

"Not you. Not today. You gave three units of blood. You wouldn't be hiking five minutes in this heat before passing out."

He then looked at Connor, who raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Same with you. People told me they found you half-starved and dehydrated. Not to speak about your lack of sleep. You need to rest as well."

The Irishman scoffed and moved so he could take a closer look at the map.

"I already said 'm fine. I wanna help."

Rick looked at him.

"I think he's right. We appreciate your help but... maybe you should rest for another day. Get back on your feet if you really wanna help us."

Connor threw his hands in the air and shook his head once more.

“No offense, but I already told ye people yesterday. I wanna make it up ta you. I managed ta go on like this fer two months. Trust me, I’m fine. I’m gonna join this search whether ye like it or not.”

Rick looked at Connor a little longer until he eventually smirked a bit. Daryl folded his arms and scoffed, not liking it at all. Herschel looked at Shane in the meantime.

"Your ankle...Push it now, you'll be laid up a month, no good to anybody."

Shane rubbed his head and looked down a little, kind of giving in, but he didn’t look too pleased either. After a moment of silence, Daryl moved forward and let out little sigh, focusing on the map.

"Guess it's just me" he retorted and pointed at the map that was spread out on the hood of the car. "I'm gonna head back to the creek. Work my way from there."

Connor nodded.

“Good idea” he said but decided not to say that he was going to join him. He was going to do it anyway, and he certainly didn’t want to start another fight now. Shane nodded as well and looked at Rick.

"I can still be useful. I'll drive up to the interstate, see if Sophia wandered back."

"Alright. Tomorrow then” Rick said to Hershel, talking about himself. We'll start doing this right."

Shane leaned back and looked at all of them.

"That means we can't have our people out there with just knives. They need gun training, we've been promising them."

Connor nodded.

"Aye, I can help ye with that later if ye want."

Shane and Rick looked at him curiously.

"You know your way round guns?"

Connor snorted and put his hands on his hips.

"I had four Berettas on me when ye found me” he reminded them and Shane scoffed and smirked a bit. “Yeah, how could we forget” he muttered and Connor nodded.

“Aye. I didn’t exactly survive this long on me own with nothing but my good looks. Course I can shoot. Pretty well if I say so myself."

This made Daryl snort louder than intended. Connor looked at him for a moment with a little frown but then focused on Rick and Shane again.

“I’ll need me guns back. Ye took them yesterday. I understand that yer trying ta be cautious. But he’s right. We can’t be out there with just knives, I need the firepower. They’re very dear ta me. I’d like ta get them back. Even if it’s just one.”

No one could say anything else because Herschel spoke up.

"I'd prefer you not carrying guns on my property. We've managed so far without turning this into an armed camp."

He looked at Rick and waited for an answer, but Shane was the one who responded first.

"All due respect, you get a crowd of those things wandering here..."

"We're guests here. This is your property and we will respect that" Rick interrupted his friend and glared at him. He then turned his gaze upon Connor and placed the Irishman’s guns on the hood of the car first. After that, his own revolver, a colt, followed. Shane snorted and shook his head, but he did the same after a moment, placing his weapons on the car so they could be collected. They all looked at Connor who kept his eyes glued on the Berettas.

He let out a long sigh and looked away.

"Don't lose 'em" he warned them but gave in, not taking them. He knew exactly that this was just another test to see if he could be trusted, if he wasn’t crazy and about to shoot anyone. Connor let them keep his guns. At least he knew that they were stored around here, probably kept in a secure place. That was something.

“First things first. Set camp, find Sophia” Rick then went on but Shane still wouldn’t quite let go.

" I hate to ask but somebody's got to. What happens if we find her and she's bit, Rick?" Shane asked and looked at his friend who bit his bottom lip.

"You do what has to be done."

This made Maggie look up in surprise.

"And her mother? What do you tell her?"

"The truth" Andrea said and Connor looked at her.

The mention of the word truth automatically made him grab his left hand so he could stroke his index finger absently. Daryl noticed it and raised an eyebrow when he saw the tattoo. _Veritas_. More and more tattoos just kept showing up on the guy. He was starting to get the impression that the Irishman wasn’t just crazy, he seemed to be a very _religious_ nutjob on top of that. It just seemed to get better and better with him.

Shane took the guns in the meantime and got going, interrupting another one of Connor and Daryl’s angry staring contests.

"I'll gather and secure the weapons. Make sure no one's carrying guns til we're at a practice off site. I do request one rifleman on lookout. Dale's got experience."

For a while Herschel didn't say anything and just looked at Rick and Shane.

“Our people would feel safer. Less inclined to carry a gun” their leader tried to reason with the farmer.

After a moment of considering it, Hershel nodded reluctantly and Rick looked grateful.  
  
"Thank you."

Shane and Andrea got moving.  
  
Daryl understood that this was the perfect cue for him to leave as well. He adjusted his crossbow to get moving, too. And just like any other time, Connor followed him almost immediately.

* * *

 

“Just fuck off, already! You’re like a damn plague!” Daryl roared when he heard the footsteps coming closer and closer. They were in the middle of the woods, back to the old game from last night. The game of following and not wanting to be followed.

“How about you go fuck _yourself_ , Murph, cos I’m not going anywhere and ye fucking know it!” Connor responded somewhere behind him and Daryl flipped him off. Walking a bit faster, he tried to get the hell away from the crazed Irishman once more, but the blonde actually started running until he somewhat caught up to him. The next natural step for Daryl was the ignoring, but that was useless, too, because Connor started talking anyway. He was smiling at his back when he noticed the angel wings on Daryl’s biker vest once again.

“Ye’ve always kinda been inta angel mythology and all that shit” he retorted after a while, trying to start a conversation. It took the hunter a while, but he eventually understood that the Irishman was talking about his jacket. Rotating his shoulders a bit, he caught himself subconsciously trying to get rid of the wings just so the Irishman had one reason less to talk to him.

“Screw yah. It ain’t even mine.”

"What are ye talking about, of course it's yers. We’re the fuckin Saints, remember" Connor answered, chuckling a bit to himself as if it were funny.

_Holy fucking shit._

That guy was d _efinitely_ crazy. Now he already thought that he was a fucking saint. He was completely delusional. Daryl felt really uncomfortable by now. He’d been around his fair share of crazy people. Drug addicts. Drunks. Criminals. But nobody he’d met had _ever_ reached that level of crazy before. Connor chuckled to himself and even dared to pat Daryl’s back from behind as if to get him to ease up – and that was enough to send the hunter over the edge. He turned around angrily and suddenly shoved Connor hard, trying to keep the distance between them.

“Hey! I said _Fuck. Off_!”

For a moment, he actually nearly punched the guy when he just stumbled back, laughing. As if this was all fun to him, in his weird world of crazytown. The intimidating homeless guy look might be gone and the Irishman might look more like one of them by now, but the mad look in his eyes certainly wasn’t gone. For now, Daryl refrained from starting a fight because he wasn’t sure what the guy was capable of, how many more weapons or ideas he had after what had already happened last night with the walker in the trees. Daryl just shoved the Irishman once more and that hard, sending him flying on his ass, to at least keep him at a safe distance and stop him from touching him.

“Leave me alone” he snarled once more, gave him a threatening glare, and then got going again.

Connor clumsily tried to get back up and looked after him.

“Oh come on, it was a joke, Murph. A fuckin joke. But I’m serious now!” he said and went after the hunter, a stern and worried look on his face. “Ye can’t just go out here on yer own. That’s all I’m trying ta say. It’s dangerous. Rick said so, we gotta go out in teams. God knows how many more of those fuckers are out here. Ye shouldn’t be on yer own in these woods. Y’know what could happen.”

“I’m better off on my own!” Daryl snapped back and kept going. Connor let out a small sigh and kept following. He wouldn’t say anything anymore because he was very close to getting lost in his fragile mind again. Daryl looked back after a moment, taking note of the changed expression on the other man’s face, until he let out a soft scoff.

“It’s not like yah of any use anyway” he examined, talking more to himself than to the man who was following him.

They kept walking for a while until Connor decided that he was done shutting up.

“So three days, huh. Three days of looking fer a little girl. In here” he observed and had a look around the woods. “Three days and ye wanna keep doing this on yer own” he went on, slowly trying to either get Murphy to talk to him, or get him out of the unnecessary danger just so the things that had happened in Boston would _never_ repeat themselves again.

But of course, the man in front of him wouldn’t answer and kept going.

"You know, between ye and me, dear brother of mine, I kinda doubt that you’re gonna find that girl. I mean even back then it was hard t'survive in the woods and cops got that 72hour rule. She’s just a kid, and now with all te walkers? We, of all people, should know that kids don't last long these days. No matter how sad it is. Maybe we should start…"

Daryl suddenly turned around and pointed his crossbow right at Connor's head. The Irishman stopped walking and just looked at it, not scared at all.

"She ain't dead" Daryl said angrily, crossbow still pointed at the man’s head. Connor looked at the tip of the arrow for a moment until he eventually fixed his eyes on Daryl’s face again, shrugging a little.

“Okay, whatever ye say. I still think we sh…”

“There ain’t no ‘ _we_ ’ goin on here, alright? Stop pretendin’ we know each other. Cos we don’t. We ain’t ‘ _friends’_ or whatever the fuck’s goin on in your stupid brain…”

“Alright, listen, I get that yer mad at me. Ye have every r…”

“Just fuck off ‘n go back to camp and leave me the hell be.”

“Murph, I…”  
  
“FUCK OFF!” Daryl yelled at the other man once more and actually pulled the trigger, firing a warning shot, sending the arrow flying right past the man so it could hit a tree instead. Connor actually looked hurt and really depressed for a moment, less delusional like he seemed to _understand perfectly well_ that he was just fooling himself, but then that expression slipped away as he looked down at the ground with a deep sigh.

“Alright. If that’s what ye want. See ye back at camp, brother” he muttered and finally turned around to get going.

 _Brother._  
Brother brother brother. Always with the fucking brother.  
He wasn’t this guy’s brother. He wasn’t his friend either. No matter how hard he tried. And most importantly: he wasn’t this Murphy guy from the picture. He was Daryl. Daryl Dixon. He had a brother of his own. And as long as the stupid leprechaun freak didn’t get that in that thick skull of his, there was no way he was going to let him follow him anyway.

Daryl watched Connor warily, crossbow still pointed. He kept an eye on him as the Irishman left and made his way back towards the farm. The blonde looked back at him every couple of minutes, half looking sad and depressed, half curious and mischievous, as if he was telling himself that this was just a game and that he was having him on. But the hunter stood his ground, stood in the exact same spot and watched until the Irishman was out of sight.

Only then did he get back to his search for Sophia, relieved and happy about the silence that followed.

* * *

 

When Connor got back to the farm, Rick was the first person he saw. The sheriff was sitting on the steps that led up to the porch of the farmhouse, still wearing his full uniform. Just like the Irishman he seemed to be lost in thoughts, probably thinking about his wounded son and the state their whole world was in now. Connor approached the man with a little tired smile, coming to the conclusion that he liked this man already, given his job and his charisma.

“Rick” he greeted him once he was close enough, shoving his hands into his pockets. The sheriff looked up in surprise and greeted him back.

“Did Daryl leave on his own?” he asked curiously and Connor scoffed a bit. He looked down and kicked at the dirt a bit, nodding.

“Yeah. Didn’t want me ta come along. I think he’s mad at me. Said he’ll be back before dark” he informed Rick, who looked towards the neighboring woods.

“Yeah, Daryl’s mad at everyone I believe. That’s just the way he is” the sheriff mused, and Connor let out a little sigh after having looked in the same direction.

“Listen, I remembered that I didn’t exactly apologize fer attacking ye and aiming a gun at you people yesterday back at te church. Yer good people, that was wrong of me ta do. Ye didn’t have ta take me in but ye did. Even when I looked…well, like shit. So I just wanted ta say sorry about the gun, and thank you fer letting me join yer group. And thanks t’your wife fer giving me food yesterday.”

“There’s no need to thank anyone. We’re just replicating what others did for us before, what Hershel and his family are doing for us now. We’re all in this together now. This is just how we survive.”

Connor chewed on his lips a bit and nodded. It was good to know that Rick, that this group truly seemed to belong to the ‘good guys’. He definitely needed this right now.

“Aye. Great philosophy” he agreed and they both remained quiet for a while, until Connor’s initial problem and questions crept up on him again.

“Well, is there anything I can do fer ye people? Do ye have a search grid fer me or…do ye want me t…”

“We got a base now, we have this search properly organized. Everyone’s on the move already, so-“

“Right, so I’ll get going as well and…”

“No. My point is that you’re off the hook right now. You don’t owe us anything. You should do what Hershel told you. Rest. Eat something. Get your strength back. You can even catch a couple hours of sleep if you want.”

Connor looked towards the tent, felt the extreme fatigue and exhaustion from days of not sleeping and eating creep up on him, but he just ended up scoffing.

“I’m not gonna go sleep while all ye people are out there looking for your lost girl..”

“Just like I said. You don’t owe us anything. Get some rest. Daryl and the others are looking for her. It’s alright, they’ll manage.”

Connor chewed on his upper lip as he contemplated this, but came to the conclusion that he really didn’t know what he wanted to do. So instead of arguing about it, he just gave the policeman a simple nod and “See yah” to leave what he made of this up to him. Connor shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and turned around to get going, to maybe just walk around for a bit, talk to someone else to get his mind off things, or to simply go looking for Murphy again after all.

He’d only just walked a couple of steps when Rick suddenly called out for him and made him turn around again.

“One more thing” the sheriff said and looked down. Connor looked at the man tiredly but at the same time curiously, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“People are wondering what’s going on with you, Daryl and the picture we found on you yesterday. Do you guys know each other? Why do you call him Murphy? I’ve only known Daryl for a week now and I understand if that’s between you and him, but…. If you could help us understand…”

For a short moment, the world around Connor seemed to slow down, froze him in the spot as the dangerous real world and hard facts crept up on him once more, made it obvious once again that his twin was gone, that this Daryl guy was in fact just Daryl and not Murphy. Just a little curiosity like that made it so easy for him to lose himself in that terrifyingly real insanity, the soul-disrupting fact that he wasn’t going to be able to keep that act of pretending up much longer. But he wanted to cling to it for as long as he could. He closed his eyes for a short moment and took a deep breath, until he managed to get it together again.

“I know ‘im. Aye. But…well…Some shit happened and… maybe he’d rather pretend he forgot about it insteada facing the truth..about what’s happened, I don’t know. I’m trying ta talk t’him t’figure this out between us” the Irishman swallowed hard and looked towards the woods for a second, until he focused on Rick again. “Listen, I know I’m being vague as shit right now, but the truth is, yer actually right. I really need some sleep and some rest ta be able t’think straight again. Is it okay if we talk about this later? I don’t really wanna talk about it right now if that’s okay with ye. And it’s not like I’m gonna make much more sense the longer I’m awake.”

Rick eyed Connor a little, curious and wondering what was going on with the picture thing, but he eventually gave in and nodded.

“Sure. Go ahead.”

Connor gave the man a little smirk and nodded as well.

“Thanks. See yah” 

* * *

 

Connor startled hard and was actually surprised to realize that he’d really been asleep until now. Squinting his eyes a little, he slowly turned on his side to check what the hell was going on. The moment he saw the intruder he immediately started smiling. Daryl was back and had just entered the tent.

“Ah Murph, good t’see yer back” he greeted the other man who wouldn’t look at him or respond. Connor still kept smirking, let his head fall back into the pillow and closed his eyes again, determined to keep pretending anyway. Only seeing this face for a short moment and then simply feeling his presence was enough for him to keep the illusion up.

His twin’s lookalike was shifting his stuff around in the tent without a word. Connor shifted out of his way a bit without actually opening his eyes at first, but eventually did it anyway to see what was going on. Turning on his side, he just lay there and watched the other man move his sleeping bag as far away from him as he possibly could. The smile on Connor’s face wouldn’t go away, although it was met by a pissed look.

“Yeah, yer better off moving yer arse a bit, brother” the Irishman tried to tease his opposite, get him to talk to him this way.

Daryl just let out an annoyed scoff and moved even further away from him.

"Yeah and yah better off not callin me that and getting outta my tent, asshole" Daryl grunted and sat down on his sleeping bag so he could get rid of his dirty boots. Instead of looking at the Irishman he concentrated on the outside world. Took note of the sun setting, everybody getting ready for bed, Carol sitting there by the campfire, staring at thin air with that sad and dead look on her face. Stilling for a moment, Daryl just looked at her quietly until he kicked his boots away with a grunt and lay down just so he didn’t have to see her anymore.

Because he’d failed her. Again. The third day in a row that he hadn’t been able to track that little girl down. He knew that they didn’t even think he cared at all. But he did. A lot. And it didn’t just piss him off to see them all, to see Carol like that. It upset him just as much because he knew what that felt like for Sophia. Being out there all alone with it looking like nobody bothered to look for her, find her. He’d been there, too.

He let out a little annoyed grunt and lay down on his sleeping bag, still moving to the furthest edge of the tent to get away from the Irishman, pretend that he wasn’t even there. And it seemed to work for a while. At least until he suddenly felt how the guy crept up on him and then actually _dared_ to touch him again, tried to _wrap an arm around him_. Daryl turned around abruptly and punched Connor's shoulder really hard to get him to stop holding him. Then he immediately rammed his knee in his guts to get the point across even more.

"Get yah mitts off of me you prick!" he yelled, kicking and boxing Connor, who simply started laughing and fought back once he’d caught his breath again.

“Hey, no fighten in bed, that’s what Ma always said, right? So how ‘bout _you_ fuck off?”

Daryl only punched and kicked harder and got really agitated over this whole deal, because the simple unsuspected touch had freaked him out way too much for his liking. He hated how this guy was so close right now, still continued to half touch, half slap him, generally being _everywhere_ with his hands, which just made the whole thing incredibly creepy and annoying.

“Fuck off and get outta my tent!” he roared and managed to dominate the other by half climbing on top of him, straddling him, and using the position to properly knee him in his stomach once more. For a short moment, Daryl was pretty sure that if he had his knife on him and not packed away close to his boots, he'd kill the Irishman right now.

The guy was _still_ laughing. That made the whole situation a little less tense at least. Daryl really wasn’t sure what this guy was capable of and what this whole scuffle could turn into, but truth be told, he didn’t want to find out. It actually took Connor a short moment to recover from the sudden lack of air, but then he got into action as well, actually took Daryl on, still chuckling to himself but hitting and kicking back just as hard.

"Give up, ye know you don't stand a chance. I always win m'dear brother" he exclaimed, sounding amused.

 _Brother_.

Hearing that again was what made Daryl really lose it.

“I’m not your fucking brother!” the hunter yelled punched Connor hard in the face, just once, but it was enough to make the blonde grunt in pain. Squeezing his eyes shut and quickly covering his nose and left eye with his hand, Connor tried to turn away from the assault. Daryl froze in the spot and was actually quite surprised by his own actions for a short moment, looking at the tiny bits of blood on his fist. He ended up clenching it even more but got moving again, away from the Irishman and back to his side of the tent with a growled "Touch me again and you’re dead, you faggot.”

“Uhh I’m _so_ fuckin scared, man” Connor simply retorted and sat upright a bit because his nose had started bleeding. He wiped the blood away but kept looking at Daryl with a strange expression on his face. Daryl just glared back at him, warning him with the look.

"I'd call that a match this time" Connor muttered after a moment of failing to stop his nosebleed. Even with the blood and bruises that were going to form by tomorrow without a doubt, he eventually still relaxed and gave the hunter an almost pleased smirk. “Good fight, little brother.”

Daryl just glared back, an almost defeated look on his face because he couldn’t quite believe it. Even after a hard punch in his face and a whole lot of kicks in his guts, the guy _chose_ to ignore what he kept telling him. Chose to ignore that he _really_ wasn’t that guy in the picture, his brother. The man had completely lost it. It was very obvious that no matter what Daryl was going to do or try, the Irishman wasn’t going to stop calling him Murphy or brother, wasn’t going to stop pretending that he was the guy he resembled.

Daryl just scoffed and got moving to get out of the tent, grabbing his sleeping bag to sleep outside.

"Shove it up your ass" he muttered and left because he was done with this.  


* * *

 

He wasn’t exactly surprised to wake up in the middle of the night. After all, it was really cold and really uncomfortable out here, the spot he’d chosen under the tree right behind his tent. What was surprising though was the fact that neither the cold nor the discomfort had woken him up. Instead, he took note of stifled sobs and sharp breaths somewhere near him, sounds that were hard to miss and that had woken him up without a doubt. Daryl turned on his side and looked up a bit. Some lights were still on inside the farmhouse, the RV and one of their tents. He obviously wasn’t the only one awake.

The first thought that came to his mind was that it was Carol again, crying because of her daughter, or maybe even Lori, crying because of her son. But when he looked towards their tents he soon had to realize that he was way too far from them to actually hear anything from them at all. Instead, he was surprised to realize that the stifled crying and sharp abrupt breaths where coming from inside _his_ tent.

The Irishman was the one crying here.

Inside the tent he had all to himself now that the fight between them had ended like that – with him out here, brooding away.

The first emotion that rushed over Daryl was sheer annoyance. He didn’t understand how a single person could be so annoying, so pathetic, so stupid. First the crazy, then the neverending talking and pretending that they knew each other, then the touching and fighting and stealing his tent, and now the crying. Everything the guy did annoyed the crap out of him. But the more Daryl listened on, secretly curious and shifting a bit closer to the tent, the more he noticed that this wasn’t really the crying of the annoying or pathetic kind at all.

This was the real deal.

The heartbroken kind.

The man wasn’t crying. He was weeping, suffering, _grieving._

The fact that it very obviously sounded like the Irishman was fighting it _hard_ , tried to suffocate it and keep it under control, was enough for Daryl to quickly forget about his annoyance and anger. Instead, those feelings were replaced with softer emotions, now that he was all by himself without anybody watching or noticing. Surprise was still there. Then the pity.

Then the worry.

He thought about going back in there, maybe asking or talking to the guy, but the truth was that he had no idea what to say. He didn't know how to handle crying people. Even worse, crying men. Somehow he knew that this Connor guy wasn't the crying type because of fear or pain. After all, he’d taken a pretty serious beating earlier without even batting an eyelash, after having survived half starvation and travelling down here all by himself. He’d not even cared about getting a crossbow pointed right at his head twice.

They were kind of alike in that regard. Daryl wasn’t the scared or crying type either.

He remembered the only time he'd cried during the past weeks, and that had been when... He finally turned his head slightly to look at the fabric of his tent again, looked in the general direction of where Connor was lying right now. Daryl let out a sigh and turned his head again so he could stare at the tree top instead.

The last time he'd found himself crying like that had been when he'd lost Merle.

When he'd lost his brother.

He remembered the guy from the picture, Connor being all on his own in that church and him talking about this Murphy guy being his brother all. the. time. Brother brother brother, Murphy Murphy Murphy. The name he used on him all the time. Part of him wondered what exactly had happened to the other Irishman, but the more he thought about it and the more he heard Connor crying next to him, the more he figured that he didn't really need to ask.


	7. The Painful Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 4 " _Cherokee Rose_ "

 

* * *

 

He was actually glad to wake up to the burning hot sun hitting his face. The heat was almost unbearable even this early in the day, but he utterly appreciated it, considering how cold the night had been out here without much cover and without a tent or campfire. Shifting a little, Daryl grumpily realized that his clothes were damp from his sleeping outside. The sun had already started drying him up a bit, but it certainly wasn’t enough to make him feel comfortable. He definitely needed a change of clothes after having worn them for like two or three days in a row, no matter how much he hated the prospect of having to enter his tent where he would ultimately have to face the Irishman again.

Right. The guy who had wept his eyes out last night.

For a short moment, he wondered how the blonde was doing and if he should mention it, but then he quickly decided against it, shaking his head angrily.

_No. He didn’t give a fuck about the weirdo. He couldn’t care less._

Daryl slowly got up on his feet and walked around the tent, determined to throw the other man out. If the guy wasn’t awake yet he damn sure was going to _make_ him get up and get the hell out of _his_ tent. The flap and zipper of the tent were still open, so all he needed to do was kneel down a bit and crawl inside. He was ready to get this thing going – but the sight inside caught him by surprise.

Connor was already awake. He was sitting pretty much in the middle of the tent, bare back turned towards the entry as he got changed as well. For a short moment, Daryl froze in the spot and just stared at the other man’s back with wide eyes and a mumbled “What the fuck” that he couldn’t contain. Connor turned around a bit and looked towards the exit curiously, only to crack an instant smirk.

"Morning sunshine. Time ta rise and shine" he greeted him and Daryl growled.

"Screw ya" he muttered immediately and continued to eye Connor's back uneasily.

A huge tattoo of Jesus Christ was staring right back at him. Only the upper torso, nailed to the cross, with closed eyes, a troubled look on his face, wearing the crown of thorns. If it weren’t for the whole obvious religious fanaticism, Daryl would almost consider it a piece of art. He’d seen many tattoos in the past, gang tattoos, prisoner tattoos, other gangster/random shit. He too had a couple of tattoos as well, but he’d never really seen such a large one on anybody.

As if to complete the whole religious nutjob vibe, Daryl only just now noticed that Connor was also wearing two rosaries around his neck. During the past two days they had been hidden underneath his shirt, but now with his torso exposed, the religious items were clearly visible.

Geez. The guy really took the saint thing literal.

"So what, yah didn’t just escape some loony bin, you’re also some kind of hardcore bible banging freak?“ he asked and pointed at Connors back.

The Irishman put his shirt back on and just smirked at Daryl.

"What's it look like ta ye?"

Daryl scoffed.

“And yah really believe in this shit. Even now.”

“Yes I do” Connor just said flatly and then fully turned around to give Daryl a strange look.

“Why’d ye think I was in that church.”

Daryl just kept looking at him for a moment, until he let out a dismissive snort.

"Yeah because if there was a god up there he'd let all this shit here happen. You know, all those stupid people, sitting there prayin to some boss in the sky all day, they all got what they deserved. In the end it's no stupid religious freaks but realistic people who survived. If it weren’t for us you’d have croaked it, weirdo."

There was a moment when a pained expression crossed Connor's face and Daryl noticed that it had been the moment he'd talked about religious people dying. Connor looked angry for a moment. Then the expression on his face went blank and he ended up smirking from one second to the next.

"You've always been that pessimist Murph. I keep telling ye, you just gotta believe" he said and put his boots back on.

Daryl quickly got changed in the meantime as well.

"Besides, yer right. Most people got what they deserved, but not because they got eaten during prayers, but because this is final judgment. We’ve read about it so many times. This is where everything evil shall be punished and the earth will be purified so that in the end only those who are worthy shall live on. Most of them anyway. Looks like god just decided ta join us with the whole cleaning up te filth."

Daryl just stared at the man opposite him for a while. He wasn't the praying type and he didn't believe in god. He didn't even know how this clown could still believe in anything after everything that had happened. He just shook his head dismissively and got up, silently adding yet another thing he didn’t like about the Irish weirdo to his rapidly growing list. He simply left the tent to get some space between them, but Connor, of course, followed him instantly.

Because it annoyed the hunter once more he decided to add a little more fuel to the flames, using the information he’d gathered for the past two days to really _hurt_ the other man and get him to stay away from him this way.

"So yah basically sayin your stupid brother deserved t’bite the dust? I bet. Must've been just the same pain in the ass as you are."

Daryl actually startled when a fist hit his left cheek only seconds later. Stumbling to the side, he tried to regain his balance and felt his jaw for any damage, but nothing much seemed to have happened. Holding his cheek, he turned his head to the side to give the man who’d just punched him a death glare. Before Connor could yell anything at him, Daryl immediately flung himself at him and punched right back, with all the force he could gather, tackling them into a proper fight. Soon the two men slammed their feet, fists and knees into each other, because Daryl’s statement had hit home and cut deeply.

"Don't ye _dare_ talk about my brother like that you piece of shit!" Connor yelled and punched and kicked surprisingly hard. Daryl was even more surprised to see how the Irishman dodged and countered his attacks, like an expert fighter. Managing to think about it for just a second, Daryl came to the conclusion that he actually wasn’t really surprised, considering the fact that the other man was Irish and had very obviously been in his fair share of bar fights, judging by the couple of scars he’d seen on him.

Daryl got really angry quickly, because each punch hurt and seemed to come faster and harder. It frustrated him and made him punch back twice as hard, which quickly turned the whole ordeal into a loud and nasty fight that he hadn’t exactly expected or intended.

"Yeah don't yah talk to me at all, you bible banging psycho!" he yelled right back, because that was all there was to it in the end. He just wanted to be left alone.

It didn’t even take half a minute until T-Dog and Shame came running to try and separate them. Both men had trouble accomplishing their task because even now Daryl and Connor were still kicking and punching at thin air, eager to get back to the other.

"I'll punch yer fucking face again!" Connor spat.

"Yeah come here, freak!" Daryl roared and kept fighting Shane's grip.

"Whoa, calm down Daryl!" Shane said as he tried to stop him from breaking out.

It took them a bit, but both Shane and T-Dog eventually managed to pull the two men away from each other until there was enough space between them. Connor struggled more and eventually managed to fight T-Dog off since he was still weakened from his cut. The Irishman glared at Daryl once more but then quickly turned around, moving his fingers through his hair and taking a few deep breaths to calm down again. Rick, Lori and the others already came running for them to see what was going on. Rick even stepped between them and looked at both of them with a half worried, half angry look on his face, until he fixed his eyes on Shane.

"What happened?" he asked his friend, who had some trouble keeping Daryl in place. The hunter managed to get free and then quickly stomped away from the scene, but not without giving the Irishman a furious look first.

"Looks like our newbie's a bit of a troublemaker" Shane retorted and the rest of the group slowly stopped watching Daryl leave and fixed their eyes on Connor instead.

"What? Oh come on, I don’t mean no fuckin trouble, t' was him who started it! He talked shit about my brother!" the Irishman immediately defended himself and gritted his teeth angrily.

Rick approached him.

"Look, if you want to stay with us, you better tell us right now what it is exactly that went on between you and Daryl before all this. All that fighting and arguing and shouting needs to stop.”

Connor just kept looking at leaving Daryl, unable to say anything, but Rick kept pressing.

“Hey! Do you wanna stay or not?”

Another pause, until Connor eventually started chewing on his lips and looked at the rest of the group.  
Pretty much all of them were giving him half curious, half pissed off looks.

“I do. ‘f course I do, man” he muttered and then looked back at Rick. “I’m sorry, I’m not gonna hurt anyone, alright? Yer good people, I’m sorry” he retorted and raised both his hands a little in a soothing gesture.

Rick let out a little sigh and looked to the side, chewing on his lips as well. After a moment of consideration, he went on.

“You stay, you stick to our rules. No fighting, no yelling. Now talk. You seem reasonable enough. What’s up with all the fighting? Is it Daryl? We all know that he can be quite a handful, but you two need to figure this out. Whatever happened in the past….”

“He looks exactly like my brother” Connor finally blurted out and kept looking at Rick sternly.

“Ye saw the picture. I did not know him until two days ago. The man ye saw in my picture, he’s my twin brother, and his name’s Murphy” he explained and fought _really_ hard to keep it together and stay somewhat rational about this, which he managed.

“He got bit and I…… I’m not leaving. Where he goes, I go. I need this” Connor went on and pointed at Daryl, who was still walking away from the group. They all looked at him and after a moment of thinking everything through, most of their looks grew softer and somewhat understanding. Rick and Shane looked at each other a little longer since the latter didn’t seem too pleased with the whole thing. He even scoffed a little.

"What, Daryl? Sorry to burst the bubble buddy, but I don't think Daryl likes you very much. In fact, Daryl doesn't like anybody or anything. He's a complete dick and you should just get over it if you wanna stay."

Rick looked down and cleared his throat a little.

“Shane…”

“Somebody has to say it, right? You’ve seen them just a minute ago. This whole thing ain’t gonna fly with Daryl. If you wanna stay with us and make this work, you gotta deal with the brother thing cos this here ain’t healthy, and it sure ain’t doing anyone no good. We need people fit and in good shape to protect our group, no beat-up rednecks. What if they break each other’s bones or their shouting attracts walkers? Cos then that’s gonna be it for the whole group.”

“It’s not gonna happen again. I swear” Connor answered and gave Shane a furious and challenging look, only to turn his gaze upon Rick again. “Just let me handle it my way and pull me weight around here ta make up fer the trouble. Ye need ta teach people how ta use guns? Sign me up. Ye need help around te farm, I grew up on horseback. Ye need extra man power ta find that little girl – I’m all up for it.”

He and Rick looked at each other for a long time, until the sheriff gave in.

* * *

 Daryl turned around when heard branches cracking behind him. He pointed his deadly crossbow at the thing that was following him in a matter of seconds. The thing turned out to be blonde and Irish. He let out an annoyed sigh and turned around again, rolling his eyes so hard he feared they wouldn’t go back to normal.

“Yah really want me t’freakin kill yah?” he growled, shaking his head a little. Day three. Same old game already. Always with the stupid following. In the end he relaxed though, because he was pretty fed up with the whole fighting business right now. He still felt a bit strange about the fight that had happened earlier because he honestly hadn’t aimed for it to escalate this much. Up until now, his mind had been far too preoccupied with the wondering whether the group liked him even less now, saw him even more as the stereotypical angry redneck trash that he didn’t want to be.

"Seriously. Just fuck off already" he added, to at least try to avoid yet another fight.

Connor caught up to him anyway and once again gave him that stupid fucking smile.

 _Seriously, why the fuck was this guy so fucking friendly to him? 10 minutes ago he’d treated him like a punching bag._  
Just yesterday night he’d nearly broken his fucking nose. And here the idiot was. Still smiling at him.  
Trying to be his friend like a stupid dog.

"Come on Murph, t'was just another fight ye lost. Get over et" Connor teased and followed Daryl through the woods.

"Prick" the hunter growled and walked on, deciding to leave it be like that.

"Lookin fer that girl again?" Connor asked after a while and Daryl let out another annoyed sigh, but wouldn’t say anything. He still hated that this guy couldn't keep his stupid Irish mouth shut and he hated how he kept following him everywhere.

“Speaking of which…. Sorry ‘bout what I said about her yesterday. Yer right. She probably isn’t dead. People are looking fer her, so we’re gonna find her some way or the other.”  
  
No answer.

Connor absently chewed on his lower lip and kept following with a tiny smile on his face, inspecting their surroundings curiously. After a moment of silence, he started talking again.

“I was actually thinking that we two should stick t’the creek insteada searching t’woods. Rick said that’s where he lost her, so maybe that’s what she stuck to after all, no matter what he told her. Just think about it. All this round here looks the same ta a kid. A creek dat’s actually going somewhere sure might seem like the better and pretty much only point of orientation she could’ve stuck to. So if we do the same, maybe….”

“There ain’t no ‘ _we_ ’ goin on, how many times do I have t’fuckin tell yah” Daryl said angrily and walked around a tree. “You dumbass leprechaun sure don’t know jackshit ‘bout trackin, so you better shut the fuck up and go back t’camp or even better, back t’potato island.”

“I think ye and I got a pretty clear picture by now about how I’m not gonna do jackshit. I gonna help ye find that girl of yers no matter what ye fuckin throw at me.”

Daryl finally turned around and looked at Connor, more annoyed than ever.

"Seriously. Fuck. Off! I told yah yesterday and I’m tellin yah one more time now before I lose my shit. It's not like yah care about that girl, she ain’t mine, she ain’t nobody’s business but Carol’s, so yah might as well just leave me the fuck be!"

Connor just stopped walking and remained patient and calm anyway.

"Yer right, I don't really give a shit about any of this anymore, but I fuckin care about ye and I sure as shit can't have you wandering around in the woods alone."

"Why the fuck would you care about me? I don't need a stupid babysitter!" Daryl yelled, already going back to shoving the Irishman once, and that hard.

"Af course ye do" Connor immediately said under a huff that got pressed out of him with the shove.

“No, I don’t, you don’t know shit about me, so you better fuckin stop it now and fuck off or…”

"Course I know shit about ye, I'M YER FUCKIN TWIN BROTHER!" Connor yelled right back, suddenly losing it. He snapped from one second to the next, a furious and once again slightly mad look crossing his features, like something was cracking. Something almost audibly did crack when Daryl hit him hard in his face once again, but this time he did it not to hurt the other and shove him away, but to get him to wake up.

“YOU AIN’T MY BROTHER!” he yelled right in his face and finally and completely lost his patience.

“My name ain’t Murphy, alright?! It’s Daryl, you understand? **Daryl.** **Dixon.** Yeah, I got a brother, he’s called Merle. Merle Dixon. The guy you call _your_ brother, Murphy or whatever the fuck it is, he's dead, okay? Now get over it. You’re annoying the crap outta me with yah weirdo shit. I ain't Irish, I'm American, I was born and raised in Georgia. . I've never been close to fuckin Boston. Look, I got no religious whacko tattoos either.." He showed him his hands, neck and arms. "Sure don’t believe in jackshit and I _ain't_. _called. Murphy._ Now smarten up and at least be a decent cover and help the group or fuck off! I'm done with yah shit."

Connor just stared at Daryl's hand with a blank look on his face. For a while he didn't move at all, and Daryl really wasn’t sure if he was going to get an answer or reaction. The Irishman just seemed to zone out of it completely, eyes fixed on the arms and hands where the obviously missing tattoos would have been, until he finally said something.

"I know he's gone. Do you seriously fucking think I wouldn’t know who my own twin brother is or isn’t? Trust me, I _know_ _better_ than anyone” he said and looked Daryl in the eye, looked at him honestly without playing any sort of act. Daryl was actually really surprised and scared half shitless by the look he was now being given because he’d seen eyes like that a lot of times lately, only that they had always belonged to the walking _dead_ ones. Not a living a breathing guy. But here he was, 100 per cent in his true unfiltered form, no more games and pretending.

“He’s gone. But you look like him. You look _exactly_ fucking like him. So, figure it out” Connor said honestly and Daryl backed off just a little. He was still glaring at the man but growing a bit unsure. On top of that he was _really_ confused. He didn’t understand any of this. Why the fuck he had to have a dead guy’s face, how the fuck this was even supposed to be possible, why this had to happen to him, happen to him _now_ when he’d basically just lost his own brother like a week ago. He wouldn’t even believe it if anybody else told him about it.

But he had seen the picture.  
Connor was telling the truth.  
He _did_ look exactly like this Murphy guy and there was no denying it or blaming it on insanity.

Pressing his lips together and gritting his teeth, Daryl eventually leaned back in a bit so he could snarl in the Irishman’s face.

“I don’t give a shit” he growled, stared the Irishman down a moment longer, and then turned on his heels to keep going, keep looking for Sophia, get the hell away from this.

“ _Please”_ Connor actually called out and managed to make him stop. Daryl turned around a bit to glare at him again, impatiently waiting for him to go on.

“I’ve never begged anyone in me fuckin life, but I’m begging ye now” Connor pleaded.  
”Just let me keep pretending yer Murphy. _Please_ " he said and Daryl just stared at him.

He knew exactly what this was about, why that guy wanted to keep this stupid game up. Kneeling in a church, not eating, kneeling in front of him with a crossbow aimed at his head and letting him punch him bloody. Him calling him Murphy, him asking him to play along, it was the only thing that kept the guy somewhat sane enough for this world so he could still function. So he could keep the whole fake smiling and fake helping up. He seemed to have nothing else left.

Daryl had no idea about the relationship these two Irish weirdos had had. But judging from all the twin talk and the way the guy acted now, he’d been _very_ close with this Murphy guy. So much that it was wrecking him now.

He could understand the whole thing. Much more than he dared to admit. But he also knew something else. This never happened to _him_. He wasn’t right for this sort of thing. He’d never been in something like this before. He didn’t know how to handle it. He didn’t _want_ to handle it or have anything to do with it at all. He had problems of his own. Probably wayyy bigger problems than this Connor guy, considering all the shit he’d gone through in his own life. And it wasn’t like he was running around telling everybody about it, or asking anybody for help like the fucking secretly weeping sissy guy this Irish asshole was. His problems, right now, only consisted of finding Merle, and finding Sophia.

That was it.

He didn’t even fucking know the guy. And it wasn’t like it was gonna do jackshit anyway. The man was a lost cause. He was already logged into crazytown. He wasn’t part of their group either.

So fuck it.

It wasn’t up to him.

"Nah" he growled and shook his head in a dismissive manner. “I ain’t some sorta charity. Just fuck off and leave me be.”

He turned around because he could no longer bear seeing the Irishman like that. Because the moment he said that, it almost felt like he could hear his world and mind shattering. He was actually surprised not to hear a single word or sound from the other man. In fact, there wasn’t even a reaction at all. Instead, Connor silently got back to following him through the woods anyway, and maybe that made Daryl ease up a bit. After all, it didn’t seem like his words had much impact. _Thank fucking god_.

The weirdo went back to his usual denying and pretending anyway. Probably.

He _hoped._

* * *

 

They were deep in the woods by the time they found an abandoned farmhouse on a clearing. Connor hadn’t said a single word ever since their discussion, he hadn’t even looked at Daryl anymore. The hunter really wasn’t sure if he felt annoyed and angered by this, or if this was worry slowly bubbling up inside of him.

He honestly couldn’t tell what impact his speech had on the Irish guy, but just like before he forced himself not to care. The only outcome that mattered to him in a positive way was the fact that the blonde finally seemed to shut up, wouldn’t be so fucking weird anymore. Daryl let his gaze wander to check the clearing and surrounding area of the farmhouse for any walkers. Once it looked clear he grabbed his crossbow to get ready to enter the abandoned structure, walking ahead with Connor following soon after.

When they reached the door the hunter was left no other choice but to talk to the Irishman.

“You take the upper level. I check downstairs. Don’t fuck it up” he ordered and then simply kicked the front door open with his crossbow drawn. Quickly checking the left and right of the abandoned hallway, he took note that it was clear once again.

Connor simply walked past him to head for the stairs, but that was when the hunter noticed that even now, the Irishman hadn’t drawn a weapon.

“Oy” the hunter called out, but the Irishman kept going, once again not even looking at him.

“Hey, I’m fuckin talking to you, Paddy MickIrish” Daryl whisper-shouted and moved forward to grab the blonde by his arm, only to immediately let go of him once Connor finally looked at him.

“You got a weapon?” he asked after a moment of them just looking at each other with uncomfortable expressions on their faces.

“Don’t fuckin need one” the blonde just growled and tried to head upstairs anyway, but Daryl wouldn’t let him.

“Wait the fuck up” he demanded and quickly lowered his crossbow to search his belt for his knife.

"Take this. You find one of ‘em up there, you stab ‘em. Don’t go whack on ‘em again like you did with the Christmas ornament two days ago” he muttered and handed the Irishman his knife. Connor looked down and took it slowly, only to look up again, really look Daryl in the eye, let the sight of the familiar face sink in once more.

The hunter just looked back for a moment as well, taking note of the fact that this was actually the first nice thing he was doing for the other after all the fighting and insulting him. But despite that Connor still looked pretty shaken and horrible from their latest discussion in the woods, was obviously upset because of his face that now very obviously didn’t belong to his brother anymore, so maybe the knife wasn’t really enough anyway. The hunter scoffed and quickly moved away again.

“Just move your ass upstairs and look for the girl” he growled and grabbed his crossbow again to start searching the ground level. The floorboards were creaking under his feet just like the stairs Connor was using. The whole farmhouse itself seemed to be pretty old. The sound of settling wood and structure was all around them. Daryl was pretty sure that he could hear some mice or rats, but other than that there seemed to be nothing. If any walkers were here, he was pretty sure he was going to hear them half a mile away on those floorboards.

He searched room for room, taking note of all the things that had been left behind, but other than that, there seemed to be nothing around, which actually frustrated him even more. It was obvious that Sophia hadn’t been here. The only remnants of half eaten food he found in a trash bin were too old and far too rotten for possibly having been eaten by the little girl.

Daryl took note of the noise and slow creaking of floorboards coming from upstairs, but he was sure that if the leprechaun had found anyone or anything, he would’ve called out for him by now. Daryl checked the last couple of rooms and a cupboard, where he found a suspicious blanket and pillow squeezed into a corner. Frowning a little, he turned his head to let his gaze wander.

The back door was wide open.

_Maybe Sophia had slept in here after all? Maybe she’d run out as soon as she’d heard them kick the door in?_

He grabbed his crossbow and made his way outside through the backdoor, eager to check the surrounding area once more. Feeling more confident that there were no walkers around, he finally shouted her name a couple of times once he was outside. She wouldn’t answer or come running. Of course she wouldn’t. Daryl was slowly reaching that breaking point again, because now he wondered if the Irishman had been right all along.

Maybe they needed to stick to the creek. Maybe she had never been even close to anything in these woods here. He was just about to call it a day and give up when he suddenly noticed an unimposing small pair of white flowers not too far away from the back door. Daryl scoffed once in disbelief and then slowly walked up to it, lowering his crossbow now that it was obvious that there was no threat around.

Once he reached the flowers he knelt down right in front of them, just staring at the soft white petals for a while.

_Well he’ll be damned._

Cherokee roses.

Daryl reached out a bit with a tender hand, touching the flower as he remembered the old stories he had heard about them during his childhood. One of the old Indians from their hometown had once told him and a few other kids about the legend of the trail of tears.

Cherokee mothers. Grieving and crying. Losing their little ones along the way due to exposure. Disease. Starvation. Elders, saying prayers for the lost ones, asking for signs.

Cherokee roses grew were tears over lost loved ones fell.

This had to be a sign.

He had told Connor so many times by now that he wasn’t religious, that he didn’t believe in god or whatever. But at the end of the day, he believed that there was more than just coincidence. He believed that there was more than just chaos, and that some things and how they came together had reason and purpose behind them, were there deliberately. After all, for some weird reason, he seemed to be part of something like that now, too.

And the rose right here, it had to be there for a reason, too.

Daryl reached out and took one of the fragile flowers so he could take it with him, bring it back to Carol as a sign of hope. He put it in the quiver for his arrows just so the others and especially Connor wouldn’t see, and Connor seemed to be exactly the point.

He could hear footsteps behind him, knowing exactly that the Irish weirdo had found nothing upstairs and was back to following him again. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Daryl stuffed the flower into the quiver that was attached to his crossbow so he could get up and get going.

“Let me guess, yah didn’t find jackshit. Don’t even get started on your stupid creek idea now” Daryl said in the meantime, although he knew that the creek thing was actually not a bad idea to hit up now that they had found the farmhouse empty.

He was just about done with his crossbow and ready to get up when he noticed his mistake.

Connor wasn’t approaching him here. The rhythm of the steps didn’t fit, and the smell certainly wasn’t right either.  
A sudden croaky snarl gave it away and Daryl widened his eyes.

“Shi…” he said and tried to twirl around with his crossbow, but he had to find out that he had wasted too much time and that the walker was too close to him already. Daryl had just managed to half get up and turn around when the undead was already on him, eager to bite him anywhere he could as he got into attack mode and wrestled Daryl back into the ground, right on top of the other Cherokee rose, crushing it underneath him.

He had wasted too much time looking at a stupid flower. Had probably attracted the walker with his shouting for Sophia earlier, and he had let his guard down too much for too long, thinking the walker to be the Irishman he was way too used to already. Daryl grunted under the sudden weight und struggled hard, unable to use his crossbow because the undead was holding on to it as he tried to get past it in order to bite the hunter. The weapon was actually the only thing keeping the undead away from him, trapped right between them as they fought and struggled.

Daryl quickly looked to the side in panic to look for something else instead, only to grow even more worried when he saw another walker quickly approaching him from the corner of the abandoned farmhouse.

 _Shit shit shit_.

He needed to come up with a plan quickly.

He thought about calling out for the Irishman, but there was just no way. There was no way in hell that he was going to admit that maybe the guy was useful, that he needed him here and wanted him to be around. He wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his previous statement about him needing a ‘babysitter’ had been right all along. Besides, the Irish weirdo was the very reason why he didn't have his knife with him. It was all _his_ fault.

The hunter managed to grab hold of a stone that lay on the grass not too far from him and immediately tried to use it as a weapon instead. He fought hard and managed to punch the undead in the side of his face once, groaning at the disgusting feel of rotten flesh peeling off and running down his fist just like the undead drool and blood that almost hit him in the face. He managed to turn his head away and then tried to clobber and struggle once more, at least somewhat pleased with the fact that the skull of the undead was already weakened from the rotting and previous attacks on the head, too.

And yet, it was quickly becoming harder and harder to get the snapping and clacking teeth away from his face because with all the rotten blood and slime from the undead’s face, everything became slippery. Daryl yelped once when he suddenly lost grip of the walker and squeezed his eyes shut in panic over a possible incoming bite, but it never happened.

Instead, the walker was suddenly thrown off of him and wrestled into the ground right next to him. Daryl opened his eyes in surprise, breathing hard, and looked to the side in panic, only catching a glimpse of how Connor was suddenly there, rolling around in the grass with the walker from the harsh impact until they came to a halt not too far away from the hunter. Now it was Connor who was pressed into the ground by the undead he’d just yanked away from him, but before Daryl could call out a horrified “NO!”, the Irishman successfully managed to stab the undead hard in his temple with the knife he’d been given earlier, doing it only moments before the walker managed to bite him in his throat.

Daryl got on his knees and grabbed his crossbow to fire an arrow at the second walker that was almost with them, hitting him in the head as well and knocking him to the ground with it. The hunter quickly got back up on his feet, crossbow still drawn as he turned left and right to check for any other surprises, but those two walkers seemed to have been it. There was nothing there other than both his and Connor’s loud and heavy breathing.

“Fuck, are ye alright, Murph? Did he fuckin bite ye?” Connor eventually managed to press out, the name Murphy slipping once again and completely out of habit, although this hadn’t been the only reason. He’d run like hell the moment he’d seen the scene develop from the upstairs window, desperate to stop the past from repeating itself with yet _another_ deadly bite. Even now he looked incredibly panicked and upset about it because the whole thing had obviously strung a dangerous cord inside him.

Daryl lowered his crossbow and just glared at Connor. He was well aware of the fact that the Irishman had probably just saved his life. He was well aware that he _wasn’t_ useless and seemed to know his way around the whole killing and fighting walkers just fine. Connor had made it clear: he wanted to help, he wanted to be his friend, and he wanted to keep his ass safe. His personal reasons for it didn’t really matter right now, because he was still trying and doing it _despite_ all the shitty things he had already done to him in return.

And that was literally the point. Daryl had no fucking idea _why_ this guy was still doing it.

He didn’t _want_ him to put his own ass on the line for him when they didn’t even know each other.

He had no idea how to handle that sort of sudden positive although slightly creepy attention. The only way he knew how to deal with it was by fighting it and pushing it away, denying it just so he could go back to his own status quo. The lone wolf status quo that he was so used to. Despite everything, Connor still tried to approach him to check for any bites. But just like before, Daryl angrily moved out of his way with a defensive “Fuck off”, still glaring at the Irishman.

"And give me my knife back. Almost got killed because you don't got shit of your own, asshole" he growled and held his hand out so he could get his bowie knife back.

He actually only did it to raise the barriers between them all over again, just so Connor would _stop_ doing shit for him.

Connor looked at him in surprise, taken aback by the sudden blame that was placed on him although he had been the one to save the hunter. But instead of reminding the other man of that and giving himself credit for it, his mindset only became darker. He slowly handed Daryl the knife with a defeated look on his face and wouldn't say anything. It was obvious that this day was taking its toll on him more and more. His brother's look alike snatched the knife away from his grip and took it back. He didn't thank him even now and quickly walked away without any sort of acknowledgement instead.

 

* * *

 Another day passed and they still hadn't found Sophia. The group gathered around the map again once everyone’d returned from their search, so they could discuss tomorrow. At first, Daryl was still a bit grumpy because he had failed to find a trace, still a bit annoyed and confused because of the whole farmhouse and Connor thing.

But then Carol showed up.

Put everything in perspective. If he really thought about it, he figured that she was actually the only one around this table who deserved to feel upset and angry, deserved to complain. After all, she had lost her family. She looked so incredibly sad, and that certainly felt like a hard slap to Daryl’s face, like a wakeup call telling him how childish he was acting over his own tiny problems.

The only thing he had a right to be pissed off about was the fact that he had failed this woman the fourth day in a row. He had wasted too much time during the search making that much of a buzz over the latest addition to their group. Remembering the rose he still had, he slowly grew more confident and determined to change things in order to turn the search into a successful one for her.

Truth be told, he still didn’t really know why he suddenly cared so much about her, about this kid, and slowly, about the rest of the people around him.

He hated to admit to the most likely reason, but he still couldn’t deny it. Maybe Merle’s disappearance was the biggest reason for it all. His own weird behavior, the fact that his true self was slowly coming out. If he really thought about it, then it wasn’t exactly hard to admit and understand that he’d _always_ cared a little too much. His family, and most of all _Merle_ , had been the only ones successful enough to suppress it most of the time, turn him into them, basically. None of the people around him would ever be able to do the same to him, give him shit for caring about people. The biggest question still was if he even wanted them to do it anyway.

Maybe he just missed Merle. Maybe that was all there was to it, his behavior around Connor included.

He looked at all the familiar faces circling the map and then just had to stop looking around when he faced Connor, who stood a bit further away from the others and just stared down at the map. It was kind of obvious that he wasn’t _really_ looking at the map. In fact, he was looking at absolutely nothing. He was staring holes in the air with an unreadable expression on his face. His stare looked empty and pretty much dead.

The hunter sighed and was still a bit surprised when he felt the same emotions he had just felt when he had looked at Carol. He felt sympathy for the other man, no matter how hard he fought it. He even liked him, no matter how much he hated it. He cared about him and pitied him, and that was the biggest problem. He hated himself for these emotions. Because he wanted to hate Connor.

He knew that the hate didn’t exactly justify his behavior though.

He was painfully aware of how rough he had been with the guy today. Giving him the wakeup call, snapping him out of his delusions and ripping the gaping wound that had resulted from his brother’s death wide open. He’d pretty much poured salt into it today with all of his talk, simply because he didn’t fucking know how to deal with people wanting to be his friend.

Now that he thought about it, he couldn't help but regret his behavior a bit, because he knew that he was the main reason for the Irishman’s lack of words and smiling now. Connor hadn't said or done anything against him so far, quite the opposite, he had saved his fucking life today.

Daryl let out a soundless, long and frustrated sigh.

Still.

He was just better off on his own, always had been, at he thought so. He didn't need any friends, never had any either, and that was basically the main reason why he didn’t want this to work now, didn’t know how this was supposed to work. He knew the truth, no matter how stupid it was and no matter how much it sounded like he just wanted to make it easy for himself. The simple truth was that no matter how much he looked like this guy’s dead brother - he was unable to help Connor the way he needed to be helped.

He was going through the proper grieving and depression and emotion shit, stuff he didn’t have a clue about.

Daryl didn’t do emotions. He didn’t do talking about anything. So before he could make it any worse, he just knew that it was better to shove the other man away all together, push him towards the others instead.

If Connor really wanted to stay, the others could deal with it a whole lot better than him. And judging from what he’d seen, the Irishman was pretty easygoing and had no trouble talking to people and making new friends. He was going to manage without him anyway, so he wasn’t his fucking problem. He was a grownarse man after all.

No matter what, he still felt bad about it.

Maybe he just needed to get his mind off things, do something nice instead. As soon as the talk was done and as soon as Carol disappeared inside the RV again, he was going to follow her and give her the rose. Lift her spirits a bit by telling her about the legend.

Connor completely stopped following him, stopped talking to him. In fact, he disappeared off somewhere altogether for the rest of the day.

Daryl was surprised how he felt almost panicked over this, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason behind it. _Was he panicked just because he didn’t want it to be his fault, didn’t want to be blamed for it later? Or was it because he was way too used to the other’s presence already and felt strange without him being around and annoying the crap out of him?_

Both was probably the case, although the latter weighed in on it a little more than the other. If he was honest, he was already starting to feel a bit lonely without the guy following him all the time. It was well true that other than Merle, he’d never had many friends, so this was definitely something new. He was human after all, and no matter how many times he denied it, he wanted company just like anybody else.

At the same time, he also felt relieved by Connor’s absence as well. Because it felt good to just be Daryl and not be called Murphy all the time, and it certainly was nice not to be called brother all the time when he was missing his own. In fact, it was _great_ to have the evening come to a _quiet_ end without the constant Irish babbling.

No matter what, Connor’s sudden absence still felt incredibly weird.

_How come he was always so torn with the Irishman around? His head told him to hate him, his heart to appreciate and like him. Now that Connor kept his mouth shut, he was driving him insane nevertheless. It was scary how much the guy had wormed himself into his head already, made him act and look almost as crazy as him._

Maybe he should leave altogether.

That was the first thought that immediately came to Daryl’s mind, but his body reacted in a surprisingly different way. His stomach clenched, letting him know that this was an unpleasant thought. Daryl gritted his teeth and cursed himself under his breath. He knew that he'd just wanted Connor **not** to leave.

As if he’d heard him think about him, Connor suddenly turned up from somewhere behind the farmhouse and simply entered the tent, _his_ fucking tent, to seemingly crash for the night.

Daryl couldn’t fight the fact that he was fucking _relieved_ to see that the Irishman was still there, hadn’t left because of him after all. It was _good_ to see that he obviously wasn’t going to leave, no matter what he’d said and no matter how annoying it was.

Daryl just sat there by the campfire a little longer, staring at the tent, knowing that the latest addition to their group was in there.

Their situation was so fucked already.

The prospect of having a friend certainly was a good thing, and he knew that this guy was probably the only opportunity he’d ever have to finally become friends with someone. That was pretty much the only reason why he wanted him to stay. He knew it was selfish and stupid, but Connor was equally selfish and stupid, considering how he only stuck around because he had his dead brother’s face.

Maybe if they were allowed to stay on this farm long enough and as soon as they had found Sophia, he could find a way to manage, deal with this thing. In fact, maybe it just needed time.

Or maybe he just needed another couple of days of sheer annoyance to get rid of the Irish weirdo once and for all anyway.

After a very long while of struggling with his thoughts, Daryl eventually had the guts to enter his tent as well.

Connor was already lying in there with his back turned towards the entrance. Daryl couldn't tell if he was pretending to have fallen asleep so quickly or if he really was asleep. For a moment he just knelt there by the entrance, chewing on his lower lip angrily as he considered what to do. Whether he should grab his shit again and sleep outside in the cold or if this was the night he could finally be in here as well, now that the Irish weirdo had stopped talking to him after the harsh reality check. In the end, Daryl simply entered the tent and didn't say anything although he did feel like apologizing. He covered himself with his sleeping bag and turned his back on the Irishman as well instead. After a moment, he raised his head for a final time and he just stared at Connor's back, thinking about saying something after all, but then closed his eyes and shook his head stubbornly, lying back down.

 _No, he had made his point and he wouldn't change that._  
He wasn’t this guy’s brother. Never would be.  
And that was exactly the point.

* * *

 

Daryl woke up in the middle of the night. Something had ripped him out of his comfortable dreamless sleep yet again. He heard stifled, quiet sobs and sharp breaths and felt the body next to him shake.

It was the second night in a row the Irishman was crying.

At first and just like yesterday, Daryl wanted to feel disgusted by it because men weren't supposed to cry. It was pathetic and weak after all, but no matter how hard he fought for his feelings to be that way, he just ended up feeling sorry for Connor. Daryl felt a lump in his throat, knowing that this time, the crying might be his fault.

He’d woken up facing Connor, so when he fully opened his eyes he could see the Irishman just fine, how he was lying on his back right next to him, his right arm covering his eyes. He could see the tears running down his cheek and his chest rising and falling abruptly with each stifled and miserable sob. The Irishman moved a bit then and let his arm drop to stare at the ceiling of the tent, letting out a frustrated growl as he fought to get it back together again, tried to just stop. Daryl had never seen a man cry like that, fighting for control, and he felt sorrier for Connor than ever. Hearing it like yesterday night was one thing, but seeing it was something else entirely. Because now this was real, this was _happening_. Those tears were partially the consequences of his own actions.

Connor turned his head slightly after a while and for one moment they were staring right at each other.  
He looked surprised, like a rabbit caught in headlines, and wiped his cheeks quickly.  
Then he cleared his throat and turned around.

Daryl just looked at his back for a while.

He wanted to say something. He wanted Connor to say something. He wanted him to know that he wasn't this cold redneck asshole he always pretended to be in order to protect himself. In the end he just wanted Connor not to cry every night, so they could both catch some sleep and just so he didn’t have to feel guilty any more. Because he did feel guilty. A _lot_. For speaking out the truth Connor had loathed and feared. For waking him up to this fucked up world. But mainly for reminding him of his loss every day. Just because he looked so much like his _dead_ twin brother.

 _Twins_ , Connor had said today. He hadn’t known about that one before. He knew what it was like to have a brother, so he could only guess how much deeper a bond between twin brothers could be. No matter how much of an asshole Merle had been, Daryl had still loved his brother as well after all.

 _Brothers_ , that was a bond, made of flesh and blood. Judging by his stories and behavior, Connor and Murphy's relationship had been the exact opposite of his and Merle's. So he could understand why the man was grieving so much and he felt sorry for him. No matter how much he annoyed the crap out of him and how many times the hunter wanted to shoot him dead, the more he learned about the Irish clown and what was going on inside his head, the more he liked him.

He seemed to have been the kind of brother he'd always wanted Merle to be, and maybe-

Just finishing that thought made Daryl stop, made him angry.

He wasn't supposed to think that way.

He had a brother of his own. He wasn’t the whiny bitch here. Merle would punch the living shit out of him if he ever saw him just _think_ about it that way. He wasn’t going to let the Irish weirdo turn him into a pathetic _sissy_.

"Yah done?" he asked and Connor startled.

He wiped his face in a hurry once more.

"What?" the Irishman asked but didn't turn around, obviously trying to hide his tears.

"Are ya done moping, I can't fuckin sleep because of yah retard" Daryl just said angrily and turned on his side as well.

"I ain't fuckin moping" Connor said but his voice gave it away.

Daryl just moved a bit further away from the middle and wouldn’t say anything, hoping that this whole thing would stop this way.  
For a while it was actually quiet and Daryl was already starting to relax and fall asleep again. But then the quiet sobbing continued.

 


	8. Of Sinners And Saviors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Quite dark this time. Certain things need to happen to make their relationship change and I think that _this_ is the very thing that makes Daryl change his mind and attitude towards Connor. 
> 
> **setting:** episode 5 " _Chubacabra_ "

*******

He knew that the bleeding wouldn't stop, no matter how hard he tried to slow it down by pressing his shaking hands to the deep wound.

Connor took a deep fragile breath, trying to get his shaking under control so he could at least keep his hands steady. The tiny still rational part of him knew that the wound was too severe, that there was just too much blood, that surgery was needed to save Murphy’s life. That truth and fact was soul disrupting and cruel, but it was just the way it was and he knew it. Without hospitals, without doctors, without immediate help arriving within the next two minutes, there was nothing they could do.

Murphy -his brother, his twin, the love of his life - was going to bleed to death in his arms.

"Okay..it's alright. It's gonna be okay brother...I'm here" he whispered helplessly and but then ended up sobbing once, harshly.

He moved his hand up to smooth his twin brother's messy hair. The sight was absolutely breaking him. For 37 years and 33 days, Murphy had been a fact in his life. Even back then when those Russians had first threatened to kill him over a barfight, he’d never truly believed that he could ever lose him. After all, he’d always been there to protect him. Always been there to set things right. They were twins after all. They were meant to be together. Anything else just didn’t make any sense.

But here he was, really scared and really helpless for the first time in his life, simply because he’d been too late, too slow. Just one minute of not paying attention, and Murphy was here, lying in his arms, bleeding to death. Connor’s breathing sped up more and more just like his brother’s for he too was slowly starting to hyperventilate. Because this was _happening_ **.** Right now. His twin was **dying.** And he was just sitting here on the ground, cradling his bleeding brother helplessly, unable to do anything to stop it. Time was running out. Tick tick _ticking_ away. Five minutes until his twin brother was dead…four minutes until he would be all alone, for the first time in his 37 years of living. Three minutes until….

His mind continuously tried to slip. It was obvious that the shock was trying to kick in hard. Trying to protect him from the worst, trying to force him to believe that this was just another one of his nightmares of losing him, that Murphy just couldn’t die because it was against the laws of physics and god combined. His slipping mind told him that this wasn’t real. Kept telling him that he should just take a deep breath and close his eyes for five minutes, give his mind a break to come up with a plan he always had up his sleeve.

But he didn’t have a plan.

And neither did he have five fucking minutes.

His twin brother was dying dying **dying** right now.

Murphy suddenly grasped the hand Connor was pressing to his injured neck and looked at him, forcing him out of his thinking world just like he always did whenever he noticed that he seemed to get lost in there. Murphy tried to talk to him, but he couldn’t speak. All he could do was gag and try to spit out the blood that was suffocating him, looking like a desperate fish out of water. He fought for air and Connor hastily and shakily tried to adjust his position to help him breathe, getting rid of the blood once more. He then leaned down to press his lips to Murphy's so he could start pumping air into his lungs to keep him alive and with him, starting to breathe for them both. But even with all that it suddenly looked like the younger MacManus was suffocating over his desperate attempt to speak to him anyway.

“Come on, no no no, ye can’t do that t’me, stay with me. Don' say anything, just stay with me” Connor desperately said and pumped some more air into Murphy’s lungs, cradling him even closer, pressing his drenched hands even more to the wound. But then he absolutely lost it all over again, crying his soul out, suddenly, harshly.

"Fuck, Murph. Ye can't do this ta me..I fuckin love ye more than anything in this fucked up world…Don’t leave me. Just don’t…"

The older MacManus looked up at the ceiling. He tried to reason with god. Pleading and trying to make him understand.

_I love my brother. You can't take him away. Take me instead. Take **me.**_

He stroked Murphy's cheek helplessly and eventually looked back down again when no answer would come. He honestly didn't know what to do. He had done all he could. Trying to stop the bleeding. Trying to keep his twin warm. Trying to keep him awake. Trying to breathe for the both of them. Trying to find medical supplies although there were none. He did not dare to leave this room to check the other rooms and levels because he knew that Murphy was bleeding out quickly. He simply didn’t have that much time and feared that he could lose him while he was outside. They had barely made it up here alive, and the walkers were still banging on the door downstairs, eager to get in and finish what they had started. He couldn’t think of anything else to do.

_Why the fuck wasn't there anyone here to help Murphy? What was he supposed to do? Why was god doing this to his brother? Why wasn’t he listening to their prayers anymore? Why was there so much blood? Was this really fucking it? The end of the world? Was Murphy really going to die now? Had everything they’d done been wrong in the end? Was this their punishment? Why Murphy? Why not fucking him? Why him?_

"Love... ye too" Murphy suddenly managed to answer but started shaking harshly.

Connor could feel how his brother's body temperature was dropping more and more, what the blood loss was doing to him. He nodded eagerly but ended up sobbing even more.

"I know."

He pulled his brother closer to his chest to hug him, holding him as he looked back up, somewhat hoping that there was someone there by now. Someone to help them. Someone to tell him what to do. Someone to slap him just so he would wake up from this nightmare. But no one was there. Not even god. And way sooner than later by the feel of it, Murphy would be gone as well. There was no solution. And definitely no real answer. The only thing he could see were their guns on the ground where he had dropped them.

Connor slowly stilled and just looked at the weapons on the ground, not even blinking.

For a moment that might have lasted a little too long, Connor blankly stared at the guns. Felt each shake of his twin’s dying body against his own, felt his cooling figure, the stickiness of the flowing blood between them that made everything smell of copper and death. The muzzle of the Beretta was pointing right at him, just like it had always pointed at their victims. It almost looked like a humble suggestion.

Maybe god had given him an answer after all, because now, everything made sense.  
The answer was suddenly clear as day. There was only one solution.  
He could feel his twin rapidly dying in his arms, and he finally knew what to do.

"You and me both, Murph" he said determinedly, and all panicked emotion and fear seemed to suddenly leave his body.

Now, there only was acceptance, almost peace.

If Murphy _really_ had to **die** , if there was really nothing he could do, then he was going to die as well.

They had come into the world together. Leaving it together was the only reasonable thing.  
Anything else didn’t make any sense. Wasn’t natural. Was so so wrong.

He stopped pressing Murphy to his body and instead adjusted their position so he could look him in the eye, make him understand that he wasn’t going to let Murphy be on his own, that they were in this together, just like any other time. Despite the fatal wound and blood loss, it didn’t take Murphy very long to understand. He widened his eyes in horror when he did.

"No..no" he gargled, shaking his head but another blood coughing fit interrupted him. Connor once again tried to lift his head up so he could breathe more easily, shushing him shakily as he wiped the blood away. He tried to have a calming effect on his sibling now that he had made the decision, tried to let him know that everything was going to be okay, that this time, he was going to follow where Murphy led and not the other way round, but Murphy wasn’t having any of that. For a moment, it seemed like he tried to gather all the strength he had left to put an end to this.

"No" he said again and shook his head once more, growing frantic as he started to thrash about against Connor, who frowned.

"What?"

"Ye can't.. do that..promise" Murphy pleaded with a panicked sob and even tried to move towards the guns to get them the hell away from his brother.

Connor glared at his twin in disbelief and shook his head just as stubbornly, holding on to Murphy to keep him from moving.

"What are ye talkin about. Af course I can. Yer not fuckin goin anywhere without me..."

"Suicide's a sin Connor!" Murphy yelled with all the strength he could gather and stared at Connor with wide, panicked and bloodshot eyes. Connor tried to calm him down and shushed him once more, tried to trivialize it, but Murphy wouldn’t stop trashing about in pure horror, only to start weeping, too.

"No. Promise..... Fucking _promise_ me ye…won’t kill.... yerself. Don’t…"

Connor shook his head once more, slowly losing it all over again.

"No, ye can't make me promise that..."

Murphy was coughing up even more blood and it sounded like it was really suffocating him now.

His eyes suddenly rolled back and he started convulsing. Connor tried to hold him steady in panic.

"Murph, ye can't leave me alone! Murphy!" he yelled and grabbed his brother by his shoulders, trying to keep him steady.  
“I can’t do this on me fuckin own! Please, don’t! DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE” he yelled right in his face, absolutely panicked and beside himself.

Much to his relief, Murphy seemed to hear his pleads. Because just for a moment longer, he actually looked Connor in the eye.

"..promise...y.." he gagged and there was more blood coming, leaving his mouth in a steady, thin line now. He kept looking at Connor with his desperate, almost insane eyes, pleading and pleading and _pleading_. In fact, the trying to keep his eyes open and gazed turned towards Connor seemed to be more important to him than trying to fight for his breath.

And that was it.

Connor knew that Murphy absolutely meant the request, knew that _this was his brother’s dying wish_. Of fucking course it was. He wouldn’t request anything different. Just like he desperately wanted Murphy to live, so did his brother want him to do the same. Only that in his case, it actually was possible. Because although Murphy was dying and bleeding out, physically, he was the one who was perfectly fine.

Murphy was shaking and twitching more and more as his breathing became ragged and stifled, but his eyes stayed open, kept pleading. Connor swallowed hard and tried to focus, desperate not to lose the battle to his emotions right now. He wanted nothing more than just throw an absolute tantrum, argue with Murphy until he was blue in the face just so he got the reassurance that this was an okay thing to do, that he was allowed to follow.

But then he remembered his job.

He was his brother’s keeper. Arguing on Murphy’s limited time and making this all about his feelings was wrong. This was Murphy’s dearest and most important wish in what was left of his life. And it was his job to make whatever he wanted possible to give him peace, to make him feel safe. So in the end, after a short moment of really fighting through it, Connor eventually looked his twin right back in his eye and nodded, soundless tears running down his left cheek.

"I promise."

He grasped his twins hand and squeezed it as hard as he could, bloody and shaking fingers intertwining as he tried to keep Murphy here. But way sooner than expected and as if Murphy had only waited for that promise and that shared nod, the blackhaired MacManus twin convulsed three times more, eyes still opened, then all tension suddenly left his body. When his head slowly slipped to the side and the hand slowly lost its grip, the entire world seemed to fall silent all around Connor for just a moment.

Then he started screaming his lungs out.

_****************_

 

Connor's eyes snapped open as he breathed in harshly.

Just like in his dream he immediatly wanted to scream the world together, but it all had been so vivid, so _real_ that the panic and horror actually paralyzed him, made it impossible for him to let out a single sound. For a few seconds, he just breathed in and out harshly and quickly moved his hands up to look at them in horror, to check if all that blood was still on him.

His hands were clean. Not a drop of blood on them anymore. All there was left was their violent shaking and the frantic pounding of his heart in his chest, pressing against the ribcage. It really felt like he was suffocating, like someone was grabbing his throat and starting to strangle him as more and more images from the dream started to flood his thoughts again, tried to kill him just like his brother.

The suffocation, the frantic heartbeat, the pain in his chest, it all soon became unbearable and he immediately lost the fight once more. Connor abruptly slapped his hands to his mouth, pressing his nose shut with his thumb and trigger finger to keep the noises inside. But the sob, the harsh and hot tears still came almost instantly. They seemed to flood him, drown him.

_Why the fuck wouldn't it just stop? Why had it happened in the first place? Why was he **still** dreaming about it whenever he tried to sleep?_

Murphy was dead.

That was a fact that he didn’t **ever** want to be reminded of. And yet was he seeing and hearing the same things over and over again. Every single night. Blood. More blood. Blood on his hands, on his clothes, blood everywhere. His brother's blood. Murphy's blood. Soaking his clothes, his skin. His soul. Connor eventually covered his eyes with his other hand and pressed his palms to his face as hard as he possibly could, trying to suffocate any tear, any outburst, any sound. He tried to be as quiet as he possibly could because he didn't want to wake the man next to him up.

The man next to him.  
That was probably the main reason for the intensified recurring dream now.

Daryl.

The man who had Murphy’s face, who looked _exactly_ like his **dead** twin brother.

Connor kept both his hands pressed to his mouth, nose and eyes to muffle the crying fit, but in the end, he still ended up letting go and turned his head to look at Daryl. The pain in his chest, his heart, his mind, only tripled. It still took him by surprise and actually horrified him how _much_ Daryl really looked like Murphy. The general haircut, the face, even the mole. It really looked like Murphy was lying next to him, keeping him company, sleeping, like nothing had happened.

He wanted nothing more than just wrap an arm around his waist and feel him breathe, move _live._

But of course, it was impossible. Because this was Daryl, not Murphy, and Daryl hated him. Hated to be touched.

 _My name ain’t Murphy, alright?! It’s Daryl, you understand?_ **Daryl. Dixon.**  
Murphy or whatever the fuck it is, he's dead, okay? Now get over it.  
He’s **dead.**

Get over it. As if.

He knew that there was no way Daryl would ever let him keep pretending that he was Murphy. At first, he’d really thought that it could work, that it could do him good, that it could help him, save him. But now, on this fourth day with the man and after what he’d heard him say yesterday, he knew that the exact opposite was going on. He felt worse and worse each day. Pretending that Daryl was Murphy _made_ it worse. Made it excruciatingly painful.

Even if he were to really believe it and convince himself. It wouldn’t change a thing, because that day in Boston had still happened no matter what. Daryl made the not believing part easy for him anyway. He didn’t want him around. Not as a brother. Not as a friend, not as a stranger, certainly not as Murphy substitute, not even as Daryl himself. He didn’t want him to be here at _all_.

 _I don’t give a shit._  
Fuck off and leave me the hell be.  
Almost got killed because of you.

No matter how crazy Connor was because of everything that had happened to him, his brain was still working. He still knew what was good for him and what was bad, knew what was right and wrong. He knew that it was wrong to keep trying. He knew it was bad for him to stay with this group, to be close to Daryl, just seeing his face every day. He knew it was better for everyone involved if he just left. So he could start over, start being a person of his own, not a twin anymore.

_But where was he supposed to go? What was he supposed to do?_

He had tried it. For Murphy's sake. He had promised after all. He had kept on living for him, for the both of them. He had managed for almost two months. A whole bunch of _weeks_ on his own. For the first time in his life. He had travelled all the way down here, trying to keep ‘hope’ alive, following signals, looking for people, staying alive. He had really tried. Although he had been more dead than alive.

Going back to this again? Travelling, running, living day by day, all _alone_?

He knew that it wouldn't work.

All his life he had been _part_ of something. Yes, he’d been the strong one, the one people looked up to for guidance and planning, the big brother. He’d stepped up as ‘man of the house’ with their father leaving, giving Murphy someone to look up to, giving their mother someone to rely on and be proud of. He had been part of a tight knit group of friends and supporters, loved his family to death. And that was exactly the point. He had only ever existed for others, with others. Most importantly: he had already come into this world with someone _together_.

He wasn’t made to be on his own.

He didn’t really do individuality. Not in a true sense. He’d never had any hobbies or interests of his own to occupy and distract himself, other than perhaps the movies. But it certainly wasn’t like a Clint Eastwood marathon was going to fucking get him over his twin’s **death**. The only sense of individuality, the only sort of distinction he’d ever had from Murphy had been when he’d perhaps worn an orange shirt instead of Murphy’s black one. Or having a slightly different tattoo on an other side than Murphy. Or having light brown/blonde hair instead of Murphy’s black hair. But even then it had still always been the same basic idea and the same part of something, and they had always _shared_ everything.

Which was exactly the cause for his utter lack of coping mechanisms now. He wasn’t a single person, a single entity. He had no job anymore. He had no drive. He had no purpose. He had nothing to look forward to, nothing to do, nothing to expect, nothing to protect, no one to talk to, no one to feel anything for, nothing to live for anymore.

Connor turned his head and stared at the ceiling numbly.

There he had it. The answer.

He didn't want to live anymore.  
He was supposed to be part of something. He was supposed to be together with Murphy.  
He was supposed to be _dead_ with Murphy because they shared everything.

_Suicide is a sin, Connor._

_Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own._

_The blood. Murphy’s blood. On his hands. On his clothes. Everywhere._

_Yah really want me t’freakin kill yah?  
Fuck off and leave me the hell be._

The Irishman swallowed hard and looked at Daryl once more.

He knew that he was too hurt, that Murphy's death had broken him beyond repair. Shattered not just his mind, but also his soul and pretty much his body, too, although he had done that one all to himself. Society and their entire world had completely collapsed as well. None of that was going to get any better either. _Everything_ was fucked and everything was dead. If Murphy had still been there, he wouldn’t have cared about the fact that the world had ended. He would’ve kept going and going. Kept fighting and fighting. But now that there was no Murphy, there simply was no point in any of that.

_Now smarten up and at least be a decent cover and help the group or fuck off!  
Yah really want me t'freakin kill yah?_

_You and me both, Murph._

Connor opened his sleeping bag and slowly got up, completely calm and collected once again. It almost immediately felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, now that he was coming to terms with it. For the longest while, he just stared out of the tent, through the opened flap and watched the sun rise, trying to make peace with god, asking for his understanding. He took it all in, the lack of noise and movement, the complete abandonment of it all as he rubbed the surfaces of the two rosaries he wore.

Then he made that final decision and put his boots on.

"You and me both, Murph" he said quietly and then got up. He wouldn’t bother looking at Daryl, he just went straight ahead and got ready for his search, knowing that the other man was in fact no longer Murphy but just that pissed off moody and sleeping redneck who looked familiar.

* * *

 

When Daryl woke up he was alone inside their tent.

He growled a little and slowly turned on his side, looking up, searching the tent for the usually annoying intruder.

Connor was nowhere in sight.

He almost immediately found it a bit strange. For the past couple of days, he’d always faced that stupid grin and heard that stupid talk almost right from the off, right in the morning. This had been the first night they had slept really freaking close to each other, occupied the same space. Connor had been within reach and it would have been easier than ever for him to seek his near and annoy him with his dead brother pretending if he wanted to. And yet, he had done absolutely nothing.

He _should’ve_ noticed the guy leaving, Daryl thought.

It would have been almost normal by now to wake up facing that creepy stare with Connor’s watching and pretending that he was a dead guy.  
But the Irishman hadn’t bothered and _this_ wasn't normal at all.

Maybe the talk from yesterday had done the deed.

  
Maybe the Irish weirdo had finally woken up from his crazed state and faced reality, faced the fact that there was no way they could be or would be friends. Maybe he disliked him just as much as the group disliked him now. Maybe that was the reason why he had left the tent.

Or maybe…..

_Shit. What if the guy had left altogether?  
He’d kind of told him to pretty much every day._

At first, he’d pretty much meant it. But now, slowly and carefully, he actually hadn’t minded his company too much. After all, none of the group ever bothered to really talk to him or even be close to him after all the shit Merle had done and he had done because of Merle being around.

_There went another chance of ever getting a single fucking friend._

He couldn’t help it. He _was_ freaked out by the whole thing. He didn’t want to feel guilty. He didn’t like the prospect of having sent a suicidal freakshow back out into this fucked up world where he just knew the guy was going to get himself killed. No matter how annoying he was, he certainly didn’t deserve to die over this.

Daryl grumpily got changed and left the tent with a frown, deciding to at least quickly search the camping site for the Irishman and make sure that they didn’t lose another member of their group out in the woods. He found Shane, Rick, T-Dog, Andrea and one of Herschel's people by Rick's car. They were all looking at the map again and seemed pretty oblivious to the fact that Connor wasn’t there. It was certainly more and more confusing and worrying now.

There weren’t many places the leprechaun could be and him being around the group to help with the search had been pretty much Daryl’s only idea of where the other man could be. But yet again, he was nowhere in sight. At first, he just tried to ignore it. The map reminded him of Sophia after all, who certainly needed their help after four days of being lost. She was the most important subject of their search right now. He once again forced himself not to care about the latest addition to their group and instead started listening to what Rick had to say about the search for Sophia.

"All right, everyone's getting new search grids today" the former sheriff announced and pointed at the map.

"If she made it as far as the farmhouse Daryl and Connor found, she might have gone further east than we've been so far."

The hunter nodded and took a look at the map just to make sure, but there he was again, the stupid leprechaun, being mentioned right from the off.

"I'd like to help" Jimmy, one of Herschel's people said and stepped forward in the meantime. The whole group turned around to eye him.

"I know the area pretty well and stuff."

Rick looked at him and frowned. "Herschel's okay with this?"

Jimmy shrugged and nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah. He said I should ask you."

Daryl raised an eyebrow and scoffed. He could tell that the kid was lying, and just thinking about such a mama’s boy helping them out there in the woods made him scoff even louder. Rick didn't seem to notice the obvious lie, since he simply turned to look at his map again, thanking Jimmy.

"Nothing about what Daryl found screams Sophia to me. Anyone could've been holed up in that farmhouse" Shane muttered from somewhere behind the car. Everyone looked at him, especially Daryl, who narrowed his eyes at the former cop.

"Anybody includes her, right?" Andrea said in the meantime.

It was so very obvious that Shane didn't seem to be very interested in searching for Sophia any longer. Daryl thought about the farmhouse, everything he had seen, the cupboard, the flower. But then it all made him think about the Irishman _again_ , because the area around the farmhouse had been the setting for their ‘real’ talk, the one that might be the reason for Connor being gone now. For a short moment, Daryl raised his head a little to let his gaze wander, scanning Hershel’s property. But the Irishman was nowhere in sight. Shaking his head a little, Daryl angrily scratched his nose with a frown and then looked at Rick, trying to distract himself.

"Whoever slept in that cupboard was no bigger than yay-high" he explained and showed them what height he was talking about. "It's a good lead" Andrea agreed with a nod. Rick nodded as well and looked at the hunter.

"Maybe we'll pick up her trail again."

Daryl scoffed and just pointed at the map to explain his further plans.

"No maybe about it. I'm gonna head up to this ridge right here, take a bird's eye view of the whole grid. If she's up there, or anywhere near the creek, I'll spot her" he explained.

_Just think about it. All this round here looks the same ta a kid. A creek dat’s actually going somewhere sure might seem like the better and pretty much only point of orientation she could’ve stuck to. So if we do the same, maybe…_

He let the others talk and discuss their search for a moment until he finally decided to give up and be straight about it.

"Alright. I'm gonna go and get started on the search, you seen that Irish guy? Still got my knife, dumbass" he lied just to have an excuse around the others why he was interested in teaming up and looking for him.

"He left about ten minutes ago" Dale answered and Daryl turned around to look at him. For a moment, he couldn’t hide his surprise and slight panic over this information. He wondered if this was it, the moment where they told him that the leprechaun had really run off after their talk yesterday and feared that he could be blamed for it.

"Where’d he go?" he asked cautiously, but the others didn’t look angry or worried.

"The stables. Said he wanted to borrow a horse, get back to the farmhouse to start searching for Sophia early" Rick went on, and this just made Daryl suspicious now.

He frowned and looked in the general direction of what he thought to recognize as the stables.

"He told me he thinks Sophia's dead."

"Well maybe he changed his mind. He said he wants to do us a favor after everything we’ve done for him so far " Andrea suggested and Daryl looked at her. Something told him this was off and very likely not true. The leprechaun had most certainly used it as an excuse to slip away without the others noticing. He didn’t want the freak to go. Certainly not because of what he’d said yesterday. He’d only told him all this crap to get him to back away from _him_ , not the entire group. _What if the guy really fucking died out there now? That’d be on him. Shit._

"You look worried, I thought you wanted to get rid of him anyway?" Dale asked with a little nervous chuckle, but Daryl just ignored him.

_Great. They probably had to look for two people now. Just because he couldn’t get his shit together. Shit shit shit._

"Guy’s been clingier than a gum on boots for the past three days, it ain’t right…” he muttered more to himself, seriously wondering and slightly freaking out by now. “The stables you say?" he asked Rick who nodded. Daryl frowned again and grabbed his crossbow. “Right. Was gonna borrow a horse anyway” he just muttered and then got walking to head for the stables, already dreading that he could find them abandoned with all the horses still in there.

* * *

 

The moment he reached the stables all his assumptions seemed to come true. He found all stalls occupied by horses, not a single one was gone which told him that Connor’s explanation to the group had been a lie. He walked up and down the hallway just to make sure, but all the horses were definitely there. Part of him wanted to give up already. He seriously wondered why the fuck he even cared. _So maybe the Irish weirdo had left. It was all he had wanted to happen anyway, wasn’t it?_ He’d been way too annoyed by him, his talk, his accent, his constant calling him Murphy, his general pathetic behavior and looks.

 _Maybe it was a good thing that the guy had left for good_ , Daryl thought grumpily and let out a little scoff as he turned on his heels. He was just about to leave the stables when he suddenly heard a thud next door, coming from the tack room. Daryl immediately grabbed his crossbow, expecting it to be a walker, and slowly approached the door. Part of him wondered if this was just the leprechaun or one of Hershel's people after all, so after a few seconds of slowly approaching the door, he eventually decided to talk.

"Hello?" he called out but didn't get an answer.

The closer he got to the door though, the clearer the noises got. Almost creepy gagging and gargling noises definitely came from inside, sounding like a walker.

Daryl slowly reached out for the door and eventually pushed it open, ready to shoot the undead. What he found instead actually shocked him to the very core and made him drop his crossbow almost instantly.

The moment the door swung open he was greeted by the terrible sight of a hanging figure right in the middle of the room, a sight that was accompanied by the horrifying noises of strangled fighting for air under the awful creaking of a tight rope.

A rope that was strapped around a beam and _Connor’s_ neck.

A wooden stool was lying on the ground underneath him, toppled over from the jump, having caused the thudding noise which had attracted Daryl to this room in the first place. It looked like it had only just happened because the Irishman was still struggling and kicking violently, only making the strangled noises that escaped his mouth sound even more horrifying. For a short, terrifying moment their horrified and wide-eyed gazes met, taking the both of them by absolute surprise. The jump had only just happened, but the fight was already leaving the Irishman as his eyes rolled back and he began to quickly lose his consciousness under the heavy strangulation.

"No you stupid prick!" Daryl yelled and finally managed to react. He darted forward and immediately grabbed the Irishman’s hip, trying to lift him up to stop the rope from strangling him. "HELP!" he screamed, looking back towards the door. But there was no one there. He immediately and clumsily tried to get hold of the chair that lay at his feet, but it was impossible for him to get it upright.

He quickly realized that he had to let go off Connor again so he could get his knife and cut the rope. Carefully letting go, Daryl caused the Irishman to suddenly come to for just a moment. He once again started fighting for air like a mad man in the most horrible manner. Daryl frantically managed to put the stool upright again to try and help him.

“Come on, hold on! I gotcha!” he shouted in panic as he started to cut the rope, looking at Connor in absolute horror. When the rope finally snapped, Connor just fell down with a grunt, no longer moving or doing anything. Daryl immediatly jumped off the stool and knelt down next to the Irishman to free his neck from the rope. He freaked out even more when he saw that the blonde wasn’t responsive to any of it at all. His eyes were closed and he lay there what looked like lifeless.

"Don't you dare you stupid ass!" Daryl yelled and hit him hard across his face, but it didn’t change anything, Connor wouldn’t wake up. The hunter looked up with wide eyes again and kept patting the other’s cheek. When no help would come he quickly moved down to press his ear to his chest to check for a heartbeat. He really wasn’t sure if he should do mouth-to-mouth resuscitation or not, but he knew that the Irishman needed to breathe, needed to stay alive, couldn’t just die because of the things _he_ had said.

He didn't need to breathe air into the Irishman’s lungs more than three times because then Connor suddenly started coughing and breathed in sharply. He still sounded horrible as he tried to catch his breath, but at least there was no more rope in the way. He also tried to grasp his aching throat and neck, feeling it in panic as grimmaced in pain, but Daryl wouldn’t let him touch the strangulation marks. The hunter just stared at him in horror until the Irishman's chest rose and fell more regularly. Connor was still coughing heavily but the color in his face was slowly going back to normal. There was a burning red line all around his neck and it was swelling already.

"Are you. fuckin. crazy?!" Daryl shouted at him and hit his chest with every word once everything started to slow down a bit.

Connor winced in pain and tried to answer with what looked like 'Murphy' yet again, but nothing would come out.

"You stupid prick, yah could be _dead_! You could've hung in here for hours!" Daryl kept yelling in shock.

Connor tried to answer again but no coherent sound came out. Daryl grabbed him by his arms then and lifted him up. "We need to get some help" he said and clumsily threw him over his shoulder. He was surprised how heavy the Irishman really was, considering that he looked half-starved and dead. But it didn’t truly matter right now. What mattered was getting Connor out of here and back to the others because he seriously needed someone to check on him, check on his neck, his spine, his stupid crazed fucking brain.

He honestly didn’t know why he was _so_ fucking scared and what exactly it was that he feared.

He only knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t going to let this man die.

* * *

 

Connor was lucky. Hershel and his daughters, the people who had taken care of him, thought so at least. He wasn't severely injured. He couldn't really move his head, swallow or speak much, but he remained conscious and could breathe somewhat normally on his own. Daryl had come just in time to prevent the worst from happening, like cutting off the blood- and airflow towards the brain for too long to cause severe damage. There was a bright red line all around Connor’s neck where the rope had burnt and bruised him. Hershel advised him not talk because all the spraining was serious no matter what, even though Connor could talk if he put some effort into it.

For a very long while, he just lay in bed and stared at the ceiling lifelessly. Many members of the group, especially the women and Carl, had stayed with him for the past hour, talked to him, tried to cheer him up, asked him if he wanted to talk about it or what they could do to make him feel a bit better. He was pretty much fed up with the talk and pity, just wanted to be left alone and think about everything he’d been through, everything he had seen and thought when he’d really been hanging from that beam, but he decided not to send them away out of courtesy. He really appreciated that they genuinely cared about him already, but it wouldn’t make much of a difference to him either way. And he certainly was still glad as soon as he was left alone, left to his own post suicide-attempt-thoughts.

He still couldn't believe that he had really pulled it through.

He'd really been hanging from a freaking rope in there. He'd almost been there with Murphy, ready to make that unknown journey, but many things had played some unexpected twists and tricks on him. His body for starters, although he had expected it to happen. Even if he wanted to die, that survival instinct had kicked in violently. He _had_ fought for his life and regretted the decision the moment he had jumped, no matter how confusing that was now.

Because in the end, he still wanted to die. He still wanted to be with Murphy.

And Murphy, once again, was entirely the point.

He had not forgotten that Murphy was dead and that Daryl wasn’t him. But in this very moment, it hadn’t mattered. The first and only face he had seen during his attempt to take his life had been Murphy’s. During this near death experience, he’d _believed_ it to be Murphy, thought it to be Murphy to cut the rope and save his life in order to remind him of that cruel promise he’d asked of him.

Out of all the people who could’ve found him, it had to have been this face. If he were in a better state, he would’ve taken the hint, seen it as a sign from god and Murphy to let him know that his prayers had been heard and that he was _supposed_ to live. But the truth was that he certainly wasn’t in a better state now. It was probably even worse. He was still very depressed and he still very much wanted to die because Murphy was still dead no matter what. It didn’t matter if he killed himself or lived today. Murphy would always be dead. He didn’t want any signs.

The truth was also that he didn’t _really_ know what he wanted. Whether he wanted to do it again or whether he wanted to live now. He had no idea. This was some Hamlet sort of shit now. Only way less poetic and meaningful.

_You’re thinking too fucking loud._

Murphy had always told him whenever he’d sensed that he was getting lost in a mind-spiral just like this one. Connor shook his head gently and decided to just let it go for now. He winced when the pain in his neck flared right up again because of the shake. Connor swallowed miserably and closed his eyes, he hoped that maybe this way, everything would just fucking stop after all. 

* * *

 

When everyone left to resume the search it was actually Daryl who decided to stay for a bit.

For a while he just stood in front of the door to the room Connor was in, wondering if it really was a good idea.

He was fairly certain that he was to blame for this whole mess up.

It was true that he wasn’t the _main_ cause, that one was pretty much clear. The guy had been suicidal ever since they had found him in the church. Craving death because of his dead twin brother. That death was the big reason for Connor to do it and he knew it, but he still couldn’t deny the fact that he’d been the final straw. For one because he had Murphy’s face. Kept remind him of that death every day. But most of all he was to blame because of all the things he had said yesterday, all the things he had done so far. He had _tempted_ Connor to pull it through. He had pushed and pushed him, hoping to get rid of him. Little had he known or ever suspected that Connor could _really_ pull it through like _that_.

He felt guilty.  
He felt really ashamed of himself.

  
Although he wouldn’t and couldn’t change his face to look less _Murphy_ , he could’ve changed his attitude and behavior around an obviously suicidal guy but he hadn’t, and _that_ was on him now, those were the consequences. He was also pretty sure that if Connor ever told the group what he’d done to him and yelled at him so far or if he ever told them himself, he was going to get thrown out over this. _So what was it worth? Going in there, ‘apologizing’ when he knew he couldn’t in any appropriate way, that was all pointless and too late now anyway. It didn’t matter and it wasn’t going to change shit._ He let out a frustrated scoff and turned around, ready to leave the farmhouse, but in the end, he stilled once again.

No matter what, he _owed_ this guy an apology.  
He needed to let him know that he hadn’t meant everything he’d said _this_ way.  
He didn’t want any of it to happen again. He didn’t want to be such an abusive fuck like his father, his family, the environment he’d grown up in that he hated so much.

After a very long while, Daryl eventually and finally opened the door to enter the room.

He wasn’t exactly surprised to see the shape Connor was in. He lay in bed and looked absolutely horrible, eyes closed, on his back, an awkward makeshift medical collar wrapped around his neck to support it after the abuse he’d inflicted upon himself with the rope. Daryl assumed he was asleep and he gladly took it as excuse to leave, but then Connor decided to open his eyes.

"'s alright..come in." he croaked and turned his head to look at him. His voice sounded hoarse and broke multiple times, only adding up to the general misery. Daryl chewed on his lip and entered the room as requested after a moment. Once he had closed the door behind himself he just stood right in front of it for a while, unsure what to say. Connor looked at him for a while, eyes red and bloodshot from his previous ordeal, making him look twice as upset. Then he looked away and stared out of the window.

"Should've let me hang" Connor croaked after a while.

Daryl chewed on his lower lip a little harder, really unsure what to say. Attempted suicide was an incredibly sensitive topic and he knew that he was not made for that kind of talk.

"Suicide's a sin" was all he came up with, trying the religious approach that seemed to matter so much to the guy. Connor turned his head abruptly to look at him, only to wince at the pain in his neck and throat. But he still kept looking at him and it slowly dawned on Daryl.

Religious that they were, he assumed that Connor’s brother would've said the same.

"Going ta hell anyway" Connor mumbled, trying to swallow thickly as he looked away again.

"I thought yah a saint?"

Connor scoffed. When he didn't answer Daryl finally came closer.

"Why?"

Connor just stared at the ceiling, obviously avoiding having to look at Daryl. He wouldn't speak for a while and Daryl just looked at him, wondering, waiting for an answer. The blonde eventually turned his head to look at the man next to him again.

"Look I'm sorry I kept callin ye Murph, okay? It's just..You look so very fuckin much like him... I could pretend. It felt nice..didn't hurt as fuckin much. It kept me fram doing this. Fer a while at least" he said and grabbed his neck. "When you people found me in that church I was already waiting fer walkers ta kill me. It’s none of yer people’s fault. I wanted ta die fer a long time. When ye said all that shit yesterday it just finally made fuckin sense."

Daryl sighed and wiped his face because now he had the definite proof. His words, his behavior had been the cause. This really _was_ his fault.

"I didn't mean ta annoy you. Or cause any trouble" the Irishman went on, but Daryl had enough.

"What I said ain't no reason t' kill yahself, man. I didn’t mean…." he murmured and took a deep breath, trailing off because his words seemed so meaningless and pointless compared to the weight of Connor’s words. They both kept quiet for a while and gave in to their thoughts until Connor looked at Daryl again.

"Why did _you_ come to te stable anyway?"

"Because people told me yah were there and I knew something was up. Yah worse than a freakin magnet, clingy and annoying as fuck, so yah running off on yah own?"

"So ye were worried bout me?" Connor asked and looked at him in surprise.

"I wanted t' make sure you’re _gone_ " Daryl answered with an annoyed growl. Realizing his mistake too late, Connor already grew serious again before the hunter could correct himself. "Shoulda let me hang then" the Irishman answered with a shrug and Daryl rolled his eyes.

"So what, you want me to kill yah right now so you finally shut up about that suicidal shit?"

Connor kept looking at him and eventually nodded.

"Aye. I do. Go right fuckin ahead."

Daryl just stared at him, a bit dumfounded, a bit shocked, and most certainly worried and scared. He shifted a little, letting the sight of Connor’s bloodshot eyes and bruised neck sink in once more, until he was fed up with it.

"Just great. Now the group has t’fear finding yah hanging somewhere every time we don't see you stupid prick? That’s stupid. We got kids and people who like yah already."

Connor didn't answer for a while and Daryl sighed, sounding incredibly tired of it.

"Don't kill yourself, man."

"Try ta stop me."

"Yeah I will. Cos you sure ain't gonna fucking die as long as _I'm_ around."

Connor seemed really surprised by this statement and just looked at him questioningly. Daryl was equally surprised by his own words, but even more so by his own thoughts and intentions. Because it was well true. He didn’t want this guy to die or leave anymore. Not because of an accident, not because of suicide. He could feel that the thought of Connor killing himself was already scaring and upsetting him. And he honestly didn’t even know why.

He came to his senses a bit when Connor gave him a small smile, making it very obvious that this was a deep and honest moment between them, actually the first _nice_ and most of all _friendly_ moment between them, something Daryl didn’t want. He forced himself to stick to his principles. Even though he didn’t want Connor to die or leave this group, he certainly didn’t want his annoying ass to be anywhere near him or his tent either. There was no place for being nice or friendly here. Because Connor was already getting the wrong impression now.

No.  
He had a brother of his own.  
He didn’t do friends.  
That was _not_ going to happen.

"If I ever want yah dead, I'll do it myself" he quickly added and Connor only smirked a little more.

"Understood."

“Whatever” Daryl muttered awkwardly and angrily and decided to leave before it got any worse.

He’d almost reached the door when Connor suddenly called out, voice breaking once again.

"Daryl?"

Daryl stopped in his tracks, hand resting on the door handle. He was very surprised to actually hear Connor say his real name for the first time instead of dumbly calling him Murphy all the time. He turned his head to see what was up with that.

"Thank you. Fer bein there."

Daryl knew he could take it two ways. He also knew how Connor meant it right now. _Thank you for being in that room at the right moment to cut that rope_. At least he secretly wished for that meaning. But because he was still afraid of the possible attachment, the possible development and what Merle could think or say if he ever were to come back again, he forced himself to read the other meaning into it.

_Thank you for existing. Thank you for your face. Thank you for giving me something to pretend that you’re not you but my dead brother._

He just gave the Irishman an almost invisible nod and then left the room without another word.


	9. Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 5 " _Chupacabra_ "

He’d thought it would be easier to go back to the search and pretend that nothing had happened.

He entered the stable in order to steal a horse just like he’d said and intended to earlier, but just entering the building immediately sent a shiver down his spine. In order to get the tack he of course had to enter the tack room again, which only made it worse. Daryl even stopped in his tracks the moment he entered the room, looking up at the beam where the cut end of the rope was still hanging, swaying gently.

_When you people found me in that church I was already waiting fer walkers ta kill me. It’s none of yer people’s fault. I wanted ta die fer a long time. When ye said all that shit yesterday it just finally made fuckin sense._

Of course it was his fault.

He just couldn’t get the images out of his head anymore. Connor kneeling in front of him almost asking him to kill him and then ultimately his hanging up there. A man had actually tried to kill himself today because of all the shit he had done and said. He had heard of many people taking their lives these days, for obvious reasons. He’d seen it happen first hand just a couple of days ago back at the CDC with Jenner, Jacqui, then Andrea. Sure, it sucked, but he’d never really cared about any of it. Because much in contrast to them he would always want to live and nothing much had changed for him anyway.

With Connor, it was strangely different because he _did_ care this time. A lot.

Maybe he was starting to care because Connor had finally acknowledged him by his own name and because he knew him a bit better now. Maybe it was because the Irishman had spent a lot of time with him for the past four days. Part of him had gotten used to him. Secretly appreciated him, although he was still annoying the crap out of him. But even he couldn’t deny it:

He was already starting to use the Irish guy as some sort of substitute, too.

He wouldn't call him a friend because he didn't do friends. He didn't need friends. He certainly wouldn’t call him brother either or see him as an adequate replacement for Merle. But there was still something there even if it was just…company. He guessed. It was just that he had gotten used to Connor's presence. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, apart from the suicide, the dumbass actually wasn’t that much of a burden. Quite the opposite, he seemed to be very capable of killing and surviving. He wouldn’t have made it down here on his own otherwise, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have saved his ass yesterday.

They kind of fit as a team.

They were both outsiders who kept most of their complicated past hidden, which just made them some sort of partners by default. Maybe this was the reason why he was overreacting now. There already _was_ some sort of connection, some sort of bond between them whether he had wanted it to form or not. Daryl shook his head let out an angry sigh. It wasn't his job to worry about the dumbass, and he most certainly wasn't here to think about his stupid suicide attempt now. He started walking instead so he could finally get the tack, get a horse ready, and then start searching for Sophia.

* * *

 

Connor wasn’t exactly surprised that he had fallen asleep so quickly, so deeply. But he certainly was surprised and most of all glad that there hadn’t been any nightmares. His sleep had been deep and dreamless, but it hadn’t exactly been restorative. He woke up with a slight start, heart pounding in his chest all over again. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck and the sharp pain in his throat and neck wasn’t exactly helping. For a moment he felt utterly confused and couldn’t remember where he was, but when he turned on his side slightly and saw that picture of a farmhouse on the wall he immediately remembered.

_The farm. The apocalypse. Walking dead people._

_Right._

The Irishman lay there for a very long while, trying to focus and get it together. He had the worst headache in his life and his vision blurred from time to time. He had no idea how much time had passed and how long he’d been asleep for, but it was still bright outside so he figured that he couldn’t have slept for long.

Connor eventually and slowly tried to sit up, get up, croaking slightly when his headache got even more intense. But his throat was bone-dry and hurt like hell and unfortunately, there was no water anywhere near, so he needed to get up to get some. Once he was sitting on the side of his bed and waiting for the dizziness to go away he slowly moved his hand further down his throat to rub his aching neck. He flinched a bit when he felt where the rope had strangled him and bruised his skin. The touch burned and it felt like the rope was still wrapped around his neck. _What a stupid fucking idea. Maybe Murph was right about the fuckin rope,_ he thought and shook his head only to hiss and curse once again because it hurt.

That shit had certainly looked a lot simpler and less painful in the movies.

It took him a while to get up. When he finally made his way over to the door he suddenly noticed his rosaries on the night stand on the opposite side of the bed. Somebody had put them there after having taken them off along with the rope he supposed.

For a moment, he wondered if he was even worthy of wearing them now. He had almost committed a serious sin today, almost broken an important promise. They had been strapped around his neck along with the rope, each bead digging deep into his skin, the back and side of his neck with the strangulation. Although he had not yet seen the bruises on his neck himself, he was pretty sure that their imprints were there. He stood and stared, until he decided to take them back. He put them around his neck while leaving the room just like he had always done back in the day.

Their touch on his skin _burned_ and hurt, and it almost immediately gave him flashbacks. He just needed to close his eyes for a second and he could feel the rope, the shock and sudden incredible pain in his neck the moment he had jumped all over again. He saw his feet dangling in the air, felt his throat clog up, the pounding of his heart in his chest. There was one image in particular. One image that wouldn't leave his mind. Right when he had almost passed out because of the lack of oxygen he had seen _his_ face. He immediately opened his eyes again and concentrated on his feet on the ground in the here and now.

Connor tried to take a deep breath, relieved to experience the fact that he _could_ breathe now, then placed his flat hand on his stomach where the crosses were. No matter how terrifying and worrying it was, it felt good to have them around his neck anyway. He had felt naked without them, and the constant rubbing pain that they induced on his bruises now seemed to be a fitting punishment for his deed. Making it feel as if Murphy was still with him through the rosary, letting him know that this whole thing had been stupid.

_No. Promise..... Fucking _promise_ me ye…won’t kill.... yerself. Don’t…_

_You sure ain't gonna fucking die as long as _I'm_ around._

Connor looked at the rosaries for a while until the thoughts and wondering slowly left him.

He needed to get the fuck out of here.

He was just about to walk down the corridor when he finally saw that glass of water he’d been craving ever since he woke up. It was placed on a drawer opposite the door, right next to a plate with food. He didn’t bother grabbing the food but took the glass of water and started drinking eagerly. With the first swallow he immediately started coughing and leaned forward, accidentally spitting out some of the water simply because his throat was so sore and hurt. He cursed to himself and carefully swallowed his spit first, trying to get used to the sensation again. The swallowing mechanics in his throat were a bit wonky, but after a short moment of only drinking the tiniest sips of water, he managed to empty the glass.

Yep. He _definitely_ needed to get the fuck outta here.

Connor wiped his mouth with his left forearm and then placed the glass back on the drawer. Then he walked down the corridor to start searching for the man who had saved his life. He recognized his surroundings from when he’d used Hershel’s bathroom, so he had no trouble navigating the house until he reached the dining room with the door that led outside.

Hershel and his people were there, but none of Daryl’s group. The old farmer was currently arguing with his eldest daughter about something, so the Irishman figured that maybe it was best not to strain his luck with them any more. They seemed to be pretty busy with setting up the plates and cutlery for dinner anyway. Neither of them noticed Connor, who was standing right behind the farmer and couldn't get through.

"Well I didn't think it was that big a deal. They want to thank us for helping them" Maggie said and looked at her father, who leaned in to speak to her more privately.

"We need to be setting clear boundaries with these people. They're getting a little too comfortable. Taking our beds with all their injured people, invading our house and stables without asking.”

Connor raised an eyebrow because he knew that Herschel was talking about him. He decided to let them know that he was right behind them, so he cleared his throat and tried not to wince when it hurt. The farmer turned around in surprise and his daughter looked up.

"Sorry, I just wanted t'get out, fresh air and all that. Thanks fer...y'know, taking care af me and all dat...I really appreciate it" Connor said flatly and tried to make his way around Herschel when he wouldn’t react to his proposed handshake. “Anyway..” he said awkwardly and tried to leave.

Maggie let go of the plates and eyed him, eager to help him walk in case he needed the support.

"You sure you should be walking around? Maybe you should rest for a bit longer."

Connor scoffed gently and shook his head, which he regretted because it didn't do his neck any good.

"Nah, 'm fine, thanks" he said and gave her his most charming smile, but he could tell that she wasn't buying it. He walked past the family to get out of the farmhouse, simply because he hated how everyone was staring at him. He was on his way out when he could hear how Maggie and Herschel resumed their discussion.

"It's just dinner!" Maggie exclaimed, but the Irishman wouldn’t listen on.

* * *

 

He wasn't surprised when he couldn't find Daryl outside and figured that the hunter had left to search for Sophia on his own. Connor still felt a bit dizzy and weak on his feet because of his near-death experience, but there was no way he was going back in. He needed to do something and keep himself occupied, most of all keep his mind occupied. Lying around just meant getting trapped in his thinking world again, which would ultimately sent him right back into depression over his twin’s death. He was fed up with it right now, so he was eager to put as much space between himself, the farmhouse and stables as he possibly could.

He searched his pockets for smokes and a lighter when he passed the RV, and that was when someone suddenly called out.

"Looking for something?" he heard Andrea ask from atop the RV and looked up in surprise. Slowly and carefully at first, but in the end he simply forced himself to ignore the pain in the back of his neck. He could somewhat see Andrea standing on top of the RV with a rifle in her hands, wearing a straw hat. Connor scoffed and eventually gave her a small smirk.

"You don't have any smokes on you, do ye?" he greeted her right back.

Andrea raised an eyebrow and turned around so she could properly face him.

"No. Shouldn't you be giving your lungs a break?"

The Irishman rolled his eyes.

"Jesus, you people aren't gonna leave me be with this shit now, are ye?"

Andrea laughed gently and resumed her guard position.

"Don't worry, I won't bother you like the others. I've been there myself."

Connor looked up at her a little while longer, noticing that she held the rifle the wrong way. In the end, he decided to just fuck it. He figured he could keep the conversation up but his neck hurt too much if he had to continuously look up, so he climbed up the ladder to reach the top of the vehicle as well. Andrea gave him a smirk and eventually offered him a hand, helping him up.

“Jesus fuckin Christ” Connor huffed a little once he was up there, surprised how little breath he had left from just climbing up a simple ladder. He sorted his clothes and quickly started talking before she could say anything about his condition again.

"Mind giving me this thing so I can have a look?" he asked and pointed at the rifle.

Andrea frowned and looked at the weapon as well. Connor gave her a soft smirk and shrugged.

"Come on, 's not the first time yer giving me a gun. Didn't shoot ye last time, did I? Just noticed that yer holding it wrong."

Andrea eventually handed him the rifle, looking curious and slightly pissed off. The Irishman took the weapon and inspected it expertly.

"Nice. Yers?"

The former lawyer laughed and shook her head.

"No, it's Dale's. It's Glenn's turn to watch over the camp, but I want to help and learn, so here I am."

Connor nodded and lifted the gun up to point it somewhere and peeked through the sight.

“Aye, that’s usually how ye get shit done” he muttered and then surveyed the area a bit.

"Can you forgive Daryl for what he's done?" Andrea asked after a while of just watching him and looking at his bruises. The Irishman looked up.

"What’d you mean?"

"He cut you from that rope. Can you forgive him?"

Connor put the gun down slowly and frowned, avoiding direct eye contact.

"Why are ye asking?" he muttered after a while, confused because she was asking him such a personal question when they didn’t even really know each other yet. Andrea folded her arms and turned her head. They both could see how Dale was approaching the RV.

"I don't know. I just thought that we're kind of in the same boat."

Connor lowered the gun a little and looked at her, then at Dale, until he suddenly remembered.

"Right. Carol told me that Dale stopped ye when you were done with this shit.”

Andrea nodded and looked at the old man for a while.

“How’d you do it?” the Irishman asked almost coldly as he fumbled about with the gun. “Tried t’shoot yourself?”

She scoffed and shook her head.

“No.”

Connor nodded a little and resumed watching the perimeter, figuring that she didn’t want to talk about it either, until she did.

“We went to the CDC. There was a doctor… and he wanted to blow us up along with the building. There was nothing left, no one has any idea how to cure it, so he wanted to end it. And I wanted to stay. Dale didn’t want to leave without me.”

“That’s the problem, right. People can’t seem ta let go” Connor just muttered with an unreadable expression on his face. Andrea looked at Dale a little while longer.

“So can you? Forgive Daryl?"

Connor slowed down, actually thinking about it for the first time. He’d thought about whether he wanted to live or not a lot for the past couple of hours, but he had not yet thought about it in that context.

"I don't know" he said honestly after a while and then shrugged, a bit clueless.

"I sappose."

"What's with the Annie Oakley routine?" Dale interrupted them now that he had reached them.

"I don't want to wash clothes anymore, Dale. I want to help keep the camp safe. Is that alright with you?" Andrea answered as Connor put the gun down and nodded.

"Aye, and I wanna make sure she doesn't shoot any of us while doing so."

Dale just looked at them and frowned, until he fixed his eyes on the Irishman.

"Actually, I came here because Rick wants to talk to you. And you shouldn’t be up there, considering what…”

The Irishman growled and rolled his eyes.

"Already said 'm fuckin fine. Jesus, 'm gonna live."

Dale put both his hands up in the air.

“We’re just worried about you. Rick certainly is. And he wants to talk to you. So…”

Connor chewed on his lower lip, very obviously displeased with the whole thing. But he eventually handed Andrea the rifle back and made his way over to the ladder. He knew that he needed to listen to these people and show some respect and appreciation after they had taken him in and saved his goddamn life twice by now.

“Alright. I’m coming” he muttered and clumsily made his way back down. He needed a minute when he got dizzy half way down, holding on to the ladder with shaking hands. Andrea used the time to adjust her rifle and looked through the sight again, until she suddenly called out.

"Walker!"

Connor widened his eyes and stopped right in his tracks, still half way down the ladder.

“What?”

“Is it just this one?” Dale asked but Andrea called out again, louder this time, which made Rick, Shane, Glenn and T-Dog come running towards them as well. Connor immediately started climbing up the ladder again. Andrea tried to take aim in the meantime.

“Wait te fuck up!” the Irishman immediately called out. Once he’d reached the roof again he grabbed one of the binoculars and tried to see what she was talking about. He could indeed see a small figure emerging the woods far away from their farm on the other side of the field. The sun was shining right in their direction, making it almost impossible to really make that figure out. It was just a tiny shuffling shadow somewhere out back.

“How many are there?” Rick asked now that he and the others were right next to the RV as well.

"I can't fuckin tell, but looks like just one. It could be a person, too. It’s too far away to really say fer sure."

"It's just the one. It’s a walker" Andrea confirmed and took aim again. "I bet I can nail it from here" she added and Connor immediately stopped looking through the binoculars so he could give her an angry glare.

"No fucking way?"

"No Andrea. Put the gun down. You'd best let us handle this" Shane said and started walking towards the figure along with T-Dog and Glenn. They had already gathered their hatchets and baseball bats. Andrea lowered the weapon grumpily while Rick called out for the others.

"Shane, hold up. Herschel wants to deal with walkers."

"What for man? We got it covered" Shane just said and started walking anyway. After cursing and getting a weapon of his own, Rick eventually joined them as they all made their way across the field. Connor snuck another peek at the undead but it just confirmed what he’d told them before. The figure was too far away, the sun was blinding them, and there was absolutely no point in firing that rifle at just a single walking corpse or person. The echo of the gunshot would only make it worse, no matter how much of a good shot he knew he was. Rick, Shane and the others were already making their way over there with their melee weapons and had it covered.

He still really wanted to help.

He wanted to let them know that he was still of use and not a screw up just because of his suicide attempt. Maybe he really just needed to bash another head in right now. After a moment of watching them jog towards the figure and biting his lips as he thought it through, he eventually cursed once and dropped the binoculars so he could walk down the ladder _again_. He knew he was in bad shape already. He had to swallow a bit at the sight of the distance he would have to jog after them with an injured neck and windpipe. The heat and walking around and climbing had already taken a much greater toll on his stamina than he had expected. The rational part of his brain knew perfectly well that this was stupid. But he still _needed_ to do this. Needed to earn his keep.

He shot Andrea one final warning glare because she still had the rifle in her hands and seemed to consider shooting anyway.

"Don't fire a fuckin shot. There’s no way a rookie like ye can nail that. Think about the noise, alright" he warned her and then made the climb down. Dale was waiting for him to come down so he could climb up and Connor was glad that it was the old man’s job now to keep an eye on Andrea now that she seemed a little too trigger-happy.

"Where are you going?" Dale asked him anyway when Connor walked right past him to grab another hatchet from their camp.

"'m gonna help 'em" Connor answered neutrally and then started jogging towards the field so he could catch up to Rick and the others.

"You shouldn’t do that, you could pass out! Stop running!" Dale tried to reason with the Irishman but Connor just scoffed and ran faster.

"Te fuck 'm gonna do" he yelled back and properly started running after the policemen and T-Dog.

* * *

 

Half way across the field he had to realize that maybe everyone had been right after all. He tried his hardest to keep his pace, but it was impossible to run any more because he could hardly breathe. Connor ended up half jogging half limping, and when he was just half way across the field he could see that the other men were already on their way back, headed towards him.

Not a single shot had been fired. Not a single beating had happened. What was even more confusing was the fact that Rick and Shane seemed to carry that other person. They were still talking. Arguing. In the distance.

Connor slowed down more and more because he soon figured that maybe the threat was gone after all. Maybe it was Sophia? He squinted his eyes a little, trying to see anything. There seemed to be a lot of blood. No. Not Sophia. That person seemed to be an adult. A stranger? Maybe it was a walker after all? But why the fuck would they carry them? He actually stopped and leaned forward for a moment to catch breath, which he hardly could much to his surprise. He was wheezing and gasping for air under the pressure from the swelling to his neck. His headache was pounding just like his heart and he was seeing black spots again. And more than anything, he was suddenly starting to get bad vibes. It seemed like his stomach seemed to drop and he felt more and more like something was very _very_ wrong.

_What if it was Daryl?_

_The guy who had his brother’s face, who looked so much like Murphy?_

If that was him and _he_ was so bloody, then…

Connor looked up and immediately started walking faster. He knew that he was going to pass out soon if he kept going like this. His lungs and neck seemed to be screaming under the strain but he didn’t even care. He needed to make sure. He needed to see that this was _not_ happening all over again. He walked faster and faster until he reached the others almost in the middle of the field, and he soon had to find out that his instincts had been right after all. Rick and Shane were just turning their heads away from the bloody figure between them to look at him when he reached them, and that was it.

It _was_ him.

A very dirty and very _bloody_ Daryl was dangling between their arms. Seemingly lifeless, eyes closed, blood- _soaked_ shirt glued to his chest. “Jesus fuckin…” Connor immediately choked in panic and tried to keep walking, but that’s when his legs gave in and his consciousness momentarily zapped him right out of it. If breathing had been hard before, it was now absolutely impossible to do it. He stumbled and fell forward, landing hard on the ground, but halfway down his consciousness came right back, leaving him in this terrifying reality. The initial full blown shock had somewhat failed. He tried to get back up and just stared at bloody Daryl with wide eyes, wheezing and gasping for air, absolutely terrified for his life.

“Is he…?” he pressed out, panicking, and Glenn came running for him in order to help him.

“He just passed out from the blood loss. It looks like he got shot” Connor barely heard someone else say, because right then the shock rode right through him after all, hit him like a truck.

He still couldn’t breathe.

This time, he was sure that it was not from the bruising and swelling, but from the paralyzing panic that took hold of him. He turned his gaze away from bloody Daryl for a short moment to try and get himself back together again, to stay here, but when he looked at his hands in the grass instead, the imagery wouldn’t leave. Quite the opposite. It came back even stronger and his hands started shaking violently. Because here he was. Staring at his bloody hands on the concrete floor, the blood, everywhere. He was in Boston. Murphy was lying there all bloody on the ground, dead, the smell of blood in the air, _the blood on his hands_ , _Murphy’s_ blood. _Murphy_. In his mind he was screaming that name over and over again.

For a second Connor just sat there, unmoving and staring.

“Hey, you okay man?” Glenn asked with a worried look on his face as he placed a gentle hand on Connor’s shoulder. The Irishman startled hard and snapped out of his terrifying flashback and instead, looked up to stare at the other men in horror. He sprang back into action, getting up with ears ringing, his mind spinning.

"We need ta fucking do something! Where’s the old man? GET THE FUCK HERE, QUICK! WE NEED HELP!" Connor yelled loudly as he turned around to look back at the farm, voice breaking, coughing.

And that yell seemed to do it. Daryl suddenly breathed in sharply and moved between the two sheriffs, breathing hard. He squeezed his eyes shut in pain and tried to look at them, but the blood from the burning wound was partially blinding him.

"I was kidding!" he murmured in answer to whatever they had been talking about before Connor had made it here.

“Oh Jesus fuckin Christ” Connor gasped, relief washing over him because this _wasn’t_ happening all over again. Daryl wasn’t dead. Just hurt. _Just fucking hurt_. He quickly moved forward to get close to his twins’ lookalike, even wanted to fucking hug him although he knew how much the redneck hated him. He tried to breathe in and out, in and out, concentrating on the grass below his feet and _not_ on the smell of blood.

 _This isn’t Boston, this isn’t Boston, this isn’t Boston_ , he repeated in his head, over and over again until he finally reached Daryl and placed himself between him and Shane, almost forcefully pushing him away so he could grab hold of the hunter instead.

“Hey man, you alright? What te fuck happened ta you? Come on, we gotta go faster” he said, shifting half of Daryl’s weight on himself although it felt like torture. He could barely walk, Daryl’s heavy arm around his neck was making the bruising and his breathing worse, but there was no way in hell he wasn’t going to get this man help _again_. Not after Boston. Even if he had to crawl his way over to that farmer and back inside that farmhouse. He _needed_ to do this.

“I got ‘im, alright” Connor grunted when Shane tried to take Daryl back and resisted the push. The former deputy looked at the Irishman in surprise but eventually scoffed, moving out of the way.

"Just keep goin and we're gonna stitch ye right back together. Just hold on Murph, aye?" the Irishman simply kept talking, trying to have a calming effect on the hunter who had been shot, although he sounded far from calming. In fact, Connor sounded way more freaked out than any of the others, Daryl included. The latter just scoffed dismissively and tried to move away, resting his head against Rick’s chest with a huff.

"It's Daryl, you freak" the hunter growled and nearly passed out again from the blood loss, but he still tried to keep talking. “Now fuck off and leave me the hell be.”

Connor smirked a bit, although he was still pale and very obviously scared to death.

"Well, ye can still complain, so it can’t be too bad, cannit. Now just stay with me, okay. We’re almost there. Keep goin."

"Shut up" Daryl responded weakly, but then his eyes rolled back.

As they made their way back to the farmhouse the rest of the group came running towards them. Andrea was the fastest of them all, with a look of sheer horror on her face.

"Oh my god! Oh my god! Is he dead?!" she shouted and Connor looked up to glare at her.

"Unconscious" Rick responded and Andrea stared at bloody unmoving Daryl with wide eyes.

“And you could’ve fuckin shot him with yer trigger happy bullshit” Connor muttered under his breath, which made her look at him.

“I didn’t…” she answered but trailed off when she saw the look he was giving her. Connor wouldn’t say anything else to her or the others. Not just because his voice was obviously done for today, but also because he had nothing left to say for now. No matter what, he could see it in her face that she knew that he was right.

T-Dog suddenly called out loudly behind them.

"Guys!" he shouted and everybody turned around to face him.

He was holding a doll up in the air and looked at them with wide eyes.

"Isn't that Sophia's?"

 


	10. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** **setting:** ** episode 5 " _Chupacabra_ "

 

* * *

They threw Daryl on the bed and drenched the white sheets with blood and dirt. There was a big red bloodstain on his right side and his shirt was torn where the suspected bullet had probably hit him. The hunter also had a wound to his right temple, indicating that he had either been hit by someone or had hit his head on something pretty hard.

It had taken Connor quite a while to get out of his shock. He had spent the entire walk to this bed trying to get it back together, attempting to be rational and of help, but even now the blood freaked him out more than anything. The moment Daryl was lying on the bed, he instinctively tried to take care of him, checked the wounds, tried to get him to wake up by gently hitting his cheek.

"Daryl? Can ye hear me?" he asked, his voice shaking, and looked up when he saw how Rick and Shane started to get rid of his bloody undershirt to get a better look at the wound.

"Did he get bit?" Shane asked while Rick carefully turned now bare-chested Daryl on his side to check on his back, side, arms, neck, head. The policeman shook his head and pointed at the hunter's side where they could see a bullet-like wound which was still bleeding.

“It looks like he got shot. The bullet went right through.”

“Shit” Connor said, even more worried now.

“At least it didn’t break up into pieces like it did with Carl” Rick noted and Shane got up to head for the door.

"I'm gonna go, see if I can find Herschel."

Connor moved Daryl’s head to check the other wound in the meantime.

"Jesus fuckin Christ, Murph" he murmured and shook his head angrily.

He knew that Daryl wasn't his brother, but that wouldn't stop his mind from going all overprotective big brother on him. All sorts of emotions were rushing through him right now. Sheer panic because it was _scaringly_ similar to what had happened in Boston, the protectiveness, but also more and more: anger. It was flooding his system. He turned his head to have a look outside the window, wondering who was out there, who had done this to him, if they were to expect visitors. He knew one thing: if there was someone out there who had done this to his _brother’s lookalike_ , he was going to fucking murder them.

Everyone turned their heads when the door opened. Herschel entered the room with meds and a bowl of water. "Get back" he said and immediately sat down next to the hunter to get started. He used a washcloth to clean Daryl's belly and back so that his wound was somewhat free from mud and blood. He then proceeded to sterilize the wound with antiseptic.

Connor was still trying to wake his friend up by talking to him and gently hitting his cheek. Half way through cleaning the wounds Daryl finally woke up again and started moaning in pain. He instinctively tried to move away from Herschel's hands because the touch bothered him. Connor let out a relieved sigh and greeted Daryl by calling him names and giving him shit for passing out like that. He couldn’t help it, he immediately just started babbling because he was _so_ relieved that the other man was still breathing and right now, he certainly didn’t care about the strange looks he was being given by the others.

It took Daryl a bit to properly come to again. Blinking rapidly, he looked around the room in confusion and startled when Herschel started stitching him back together.

“Hey! Back off!” he immediately said, flinching away, but Hershel kept going with a firm look on his face.

“Relax. You need stitches. If we don’t put you back together, the wound is going to get infected and it’ll just make things worse.”

Daryl hissed a bit and then looked around once more, until Connor suddenly handed him the wash cloth Hershel had used to clean him up before.

“Here. Take this, better take care of that thing on yer temple” he suggested. Daryl first looked at the washcloth in his hands but then looked up to just _glare_ at Connor, extremely angry. Connor frowned a little, surprised by the hateful look, but then chose to ignore it just like always. Instead, he immediately gave him a faint smirk.

“Well go on then” he pressed. When Daryl wouldn’t take it or react, the Irishman tried to do the cleaning instead, but the hunter immediately snatched the washcloth from his hands forcefully and did it himself with a muttered “Fuck off”. He tried to clean the side of his face, once again wincing and hissing at the stitches and pain in his temple, until he just pressed the cloth to the superficial wound there.

Daryl leaned back with a groan and stared at the ceiling for a moment. The shock was slowly fading away now. He was glad he wasn't half unconscious any more but the more he woke up the more his body ached.

It took Herschel several minutes to stitch Daryl up. He grabbed a piece of wet cloth from the water bowl and started cleaning Daryl's back and stomach once more, simply because he was so covered with dirt and blood. After a while of just staring and watching and nearly zoning out once more, Connor eventually had the guts to talk again.

"What te fuck happened to you?" Connor asked with croaky voice and Daryl turned his head to glare at him once more. Eventually, he looked at Rick instead and answered him as if he had asked the question.

"Stupid snake scared the freaking horse away. I fell down and all the way into the creek. Right onto my crossbow. Impaled myself on my own freakin arrow. I had t' climb all the way up again. Twice."

"It wasn't very wise to pull the arrow out. You could've hurt yourself even more" Herschel said and Daryl scoffed.

"Yeah I know that too. I would've kept it in if I hadn't been busy fighting geeks. Thanks to that stupid leprechaun that'd been my last arrow."

“So it was just you? No one attacked you?” Rick asked and Daryl nodded.

“Just the fucking horse” he retorted but leaned his head back once more to rest. He was beginning to feel the after effects of the blood loss. He felt dizzy and sick and the wound was still burning as Hershel worked on it. Connor got broodier again as he limited himself to just staring at Daryl with a worried look on his face, letting the sight of the stitches and laceration sink in. He was sure he was starting to get what all those angry glares were about and he already dreaded that it might be true. Before he could say anything or ask anything more, Shane interrupted them by entering the room again. He had brought a map with him. Rick got up and took it.

"Thank you" he said and went back to sit next to Daryl's bed.

Shane sat down on a chair close to the window.

"Can you tell us where you found Sophia's doll?" Rick asked and moved the map closer to Daryl so he could take a look. The hunter shifted and groaned, but managed to point at the map.

"I found it washed up on the creek bed right there. She must have dropped it crossing there somewhere."

Connor bent over Daryl so he could look at the map, too, while Rick turned around to look at Shane.

"Cuts the grid almost in half" he said and Shane looked at him, but wouldn't say anything.

"Yeah, you're welcome" Daryl growled and looked down on himself where Herschel was still busy nursing his wounds. The farmer asked Connor to help him with the stitches, and when the Irishman moved his hands towards Daryl to help the hunter shifted away.

"Keep your hands off of me" he complained and both Herschel and the Irishman raised an eyebrow.

"Don't be such a fuckin princess" Connor responded and shook his head, proceeding to help Hershel with the stitches anyway.

"How is he looking?" Rick asked and the Irishman scoffed.

"Like shit" he murmured and Daryl glared at him.

"Fuck you" he countered and both Rick and Herschel interrupted them by just talking on.

"I had no idea we'd be going through antibiotics so quickly. It’s a wonder you people survived this long" Herschel said and the hunter snorted.

"Yeah, especially some people who are stupid enough t'hurt themselves."

Connor narrowed his eyes at him and almost considered punching him.

"Hey, y’know what, fuck you!"

"Knock it off you two" Rick said and both men looked at him. Herschel put an end to it as well.

"Any idea what happened to my horse?" he asked Daryl and turned around to wash his hands in the water bowl.

"Yeah, the one who almost killed me? If it's smart, it left the country" Daryl responded and let his head drop.

_Christ, he was tired._

"We call that one Nelly, as in nervous Nelly. I could've told you she'd throw you if you'd bothered to ask."

Rick got up and walked over to Hershel, who was cleaning his hands with a towel.   
The former sheriff gave the old man a nod and eventually placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you for your help."

He then turned his head to look at Daryl.

"You okay?" he asked and eyed the hunter who was still cooling his right temple with an exhausted look on his face.

"'m gonna live" Daryl grunted as an answer and Connor got up to sit down on the chair Rick had just left.

"'s alright. 'm gonna look after him" the Irishman reassured Rick and gave him a nod.

"The fuck yah gonna do" Daryl growled and glared at Connor.

Rick turned his head to look at Shane, who was still sitting in the corner and raised his eyebrows a little, nodding at Connor and Daryl. Rick nodded a bit and looked down, placing his hands on his hips.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“I insist” Connor immediately said and looked at Rick sternly. “’s the least I can do” he went on, voice getting hoarser the more he spoke. Shane and Rick looked at the other two men a bit longer, until the latter eventually gave in.

“Alright. I’d like to talk to you later. There’s a few things we need to discuss.”

Connor nodded thoughtfully, then fixed his eyes on Daryl again.

Soon after, Rick, Shane and Herschel left the room and closed the door shut behind themselves.

Now it were just the two of them.

It was quiet for a while. Connor let out a little sigh, leaned back and put his feet on the bed to sit more comfortably, then he leaned his head back a bit and stared at the ceiling as well to give his abused neck a break. All the chaos around Daryl had made him forget about his own injuries for a while, but now they were coming back, reminding him of everything he had done this morning. His throat was sore, his entire neck burned, but he figured it was not as bad as impaling himself on an arrow the way Daryl had done it. But still.

 _Christ, was he exhausted_.

The jog across the field and all that walking had pretty much finished him up for the day. He now had to agree with the others that it had been stupid to get out of bed today, so soon after….

Well. At least he had been there for Murphy this time.

He closed his eyes to rest for a bit, but the hunter wouldn't make it so easy for him just yet.

"It's all your fault, asshole" Daryl muttered and waited for Connor to answer.

The Irishman opened his eyes again and looked back down to face him. Daryl had turned his back on him by now and was covered with a blanket.

"I mean,all them days yah follow me and stick t'me like a freakin plague. And the day I fall off this stupid horse yah have t' be a pussy and try t' kill yourself like a coward."

There was also another thing that he would not speak about though.

 _I nearly got myself killed_ ** _because_** _of you_.

Because he’d been way too fucking occupied thinking about that stupid suicide attempt during the entire ride through these woods. He hadn’t paid attention to what was going on below, had wondered if the guy was doing alright back here, and that’s when the horse had nearly stepped on that snake and lost its shit.He shouldn't have bothered thinking about this guy. He never should've cared. The thing never would've happened if it weren't for this. But no matter what, he _had_ cared. He _did_ care. And he absolutely hated it. Hated him for it.

Connor sighed and folded his arms. For a while he just stared at his friend's back and didn't know what to say. He had dreaded the accusation already, and he now knew that it was well true. He had made Daryl shoot that arrow at the walker hanging in the tree a couple of days ago which had left the hunter with only one arrow. And because he had rendered himself useless with that rope today, he hadn’t been there to get Daryl back here safely. The hunter very well could’ve died out there. From blood loss, from the lack of ammunition and cover. It could’ve very well been a repetition of Boston. He’d let someone with this face down _again_ and that was entirely on him.

Connor knew that Daryl was right, but right now he was too tired to argue. He looked out of the window instead.

"Guess yer right" he just said numbly, simply agreed with him.

In another world, like the old one, he would’ve argued, given the guy shit for it and told him all about the facts and how it _wasn’t_ his fault or responsibility. But not anymore. This was the new world now, the new him, and he was too tired of it all. So all he had left was the agreement, followed by silence.

Daryl turned his head and finally looked at him, half angry, half surprised. He was angry because he didn't get the fight he wanted. He needed a good argument right now. Pain made him feel angry. The pain he was feeling right now meant that he was weak again and he didn't want to be weak. Never again. He really wanted to get into a fight, but knew it was absolutely impossible. Not when the Irish guy wouldn’t buy into it, not when he was so injured. And even then. When he looked at Connor he figured that the guy wasn't exactly strength and health in persona either. Christ, he even looked _miserable_. Even more than before. Daryl scoffed and turned around again, sickened by the sight. Sickened and guilty.

"So what now, yah gonna cry? Gonna try t'kill yerself again?"

Connor scoffed as well and settled back into the chair. He leaned back and closed his eyes again, trying to breathe out steadily although it was still a bit hard to do.

"Fuck ye. I ain't getting into a fight with ye now. No matter how hard ye fuckin try."

Daryl shifted and growled.

"Nah, screw yah" he just muttered and closed his eyes as well. Connor eventually opened one eye to sneak a peek, and he was pleasantly surprised that Daryl had turned his back on him again and didn’t bother glaring at him anymore. He didn’t know how much time he spent just looking at the man who was a perfect copy of his twin. Kept staring and wondering. But when he became exhausted and grew more and more tired again, he didn’t fight the sleep that took hold of him anymore.

* * *

 

Daryl couldn't sleep. He could still feel his heart pounding in his chest and his thoughts wouldn't give him any peace either. He could no longer turn his back on Connor because he was lying right on his stitches, so after some thinking and fighting he eventually and grumpily turned around to give his mutilated side a break.

And there he was, opposite him.

Connor was fast asleep in the chair by the bed.

Daryl stared at the man opposite him and let out a gentle sigh. He envied Connor for his ability to fall asleep so easily despite everything, whereas he was left alone with his thoughts. Daryl eyed the Irishman head to toe, now that he was given the opportunity to do so without getting annoyed by his babbling and grinning. Connor was half lying in the chair, arms crossed over his chest, feet resting on the bed corner. The hunter couldn’t understand how his opposite could possibly sleep in such an uncomfortable position like that. It looked like Connor was still staring at the ceiling, only that his eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling slowly, more steadily.

Daryl could clearly see the marks the rope had left on Connor’s exposed throat. The bruises had gradually gotten larger, a deep shade of red and purple. There were puncture marks from his rosary beads, too, along with a few scratches from the surface of the rope.

Daryl frowned even more and shook his head. It had been more than eight hours since he had cut Connor from the rope, but it was still pretty fresh in his memory. He certainly couldn’t get the image out of his mind and wouldn’t be able to do so for days.

He honestly didn’t understand how the guy could possibly do that to himself. On purpose. Wanting to die, hurting himself in a world that was pretty keen on doing the killing and hurting for him anyway.

And now that he saw it up close he couldn't help but feel guilty again.

_When ye said all that shit yesterday it just finally made fuckin sense._

He hadn't meant to push him to try and commit suicide.

He also hadn’t meant to blame him _again_ , probably make it worse all over again. He just couldn’t help it. This whole shit just seemed to be embedded in his DNA, no matter how much he tried to fight it, deny it.

Maybe the horse stunt today had been this guy’s god’s punishment for him. Maybe it was all just one big case of irony. Maybe he deserved the arrow to his guts.

Maybe his father had been right about him all along.

Daryl startled when the door opened behind him. Since Connor was asleep he had welcomed the freedom of getting rid of the bed cover and enjoying the chilly air that came through the open window, but as soon as the door opened he pulled the blanket back up.

He was doing it to hide the scars from his childhood and youth on his back. He shifted awkwardly and looked back once more, taking note of Carol as she entered the room with food and water.

"How are you feeling?" Carol asked when she saw him and he fought with his bed cover to get it in place. He turned his back on her again and just looked at sleeping Connor, embarrassed by the situation.

"As good as I look" he murmured and heard how Carol put the food on the night stand to his right.

"I brought you two some dinner. You must be starving."

Daryl didn't answer. Truth be told, he was freaking hungry after today. Starving, just like she had said. But he didn't want to seem pathetic or needy, so he just looked at it and turned around again. He could feel her eyes on his back and felt uneasy about it. He immediately shifted a bit more again and tried to hide the scars as good as he could. The whole thing was embarrassing enough already. All it took was Connor to wake up now. He prayed for him to stay asleep.

It was then when Carol suddenly leaned down to kiss him on his bandaged temple.

As soon as he felt and saw her move down, his first instinct was to flinch away in fear, instinctively expecting a punch or worse. But instead, there were just these soft lips on his bandage, then she leaned away again. Daryl turned around in shock and looked at her, surprised by the deed. He didn't know what to say.

"Watch out, I got stitches" was all he came up with.

He fumbled with the bed covers because he felt awkward and didn't know what to do.  
It was quiet for a while except for the chirping insects outside and Connor's gentle snoring.

"You need to know something" Carol said after a while and Daryl looked at her again.

"You did more for my little girl today than her own daddy ever did in his whole life."

Daryl wanted to scoff dismissively.

_Of course. Anyone could do more for her than that asshole._

"I didn't do anything Rick or Shane wouldn't have done" he simply said and tried to avoid her gaze, not saying what he’d really thought out of courtesy because he knew how fragile she was right now.

"I know. You're every bit as good as them. Every bit. Just look at what you're doing for me and Sophia. Or for him" she said and nodded at sleeping Connor. Daryl looked at her a bit longer, wondering if he should say something, but the truth was that he was still left speechless. He did not dare looking at Connor but instead kept looking at her. But she just gave him a soft smile and then left the room again, silently closing the door behind herself and leaving Daryl to his thoughts all over again.

For a while the hunter just stared into nothingness. He knew that she meant it. He knew that it was supposed to be a compliment. Acknowledgement. And yet, he only felt sickened by it. He turned his head back and was left to face Connor, who was still lying there with his bruised neck after having tried to fucking off himself because of him.

Of course he knew he was looking for Sophia. Of course he was doing this to help the group, help Carol and cheer her up with more than just that stupid rose. He knew he had saved Connor from killing himself. But even while knowing all that, he was surprised to hear Carol say that. Actually being nice to him. Thanking him.

" _Thank you, fer saving me_ " he remembered Connor saying.

Despite _everything_.

" _You're ever bit as good as them_ " he heard Carol say and felt her lips on his temple.

Instead of feeling better and more sure of himself, he felt miserable, sickened, angry. The way he saw it, he had the face of a dead guy and kept doing things to said dead guy’s brother that had made him try to kill himself. The way he saw it, he still hadn’t managed to find that woman’s daughter and sure as hell had done jackshit to really help the group.

He sure as hell didn’t deserve their gratitude and sympathy.

* * *

 

When Daryl woke up the next morning he couldn't help but let out an awkward groan. He had fallen asleep on his stomach and could feel the wound and stitches hurting. He had been lying on his wounds that pounded in what felt like protest.

"Morning sunshine" he was greeted and let out another groan, this time because he hated those words.

Connor was still sitting next to him on the chair, with a book in his hands. Daryl shifted awkwardly and grunted once more. He couldn't believe that the stupid Irishman was _still_ sitting there. He had obviously stayed here the whole night, by his side, watching him, looking after him.

Well _fuck_.

"Yah still sittin here? Jesus, will yah ever fuck off and leave me be yah fuckin creep?" Daryl growled, putting up his defenses almost immediately.

Connor just smirked and moved a bit, making the rosaries around his neck dangle in the air. Daryl eyed the crosses absently. They made him think of his necklace from yesterday. He wondered where it was.

"How ye feeling?" Connor asked, his voice sounding worse today.

"As good as I look" Daryl just grunted, which made the Irishman scoff.

"Oh, so horrible?"

"Screw yah" the hunter muttered and shifted his weight on the side that wasn't injured and didn't hurt so much which was, frankly, quite hard to achieve since his whole body ached. It took him a while to wake up properly, but once he did, he just eyed Connor. He looked a bit healthier and happier again although the strangulation marks looked even more horrible today. Both men didn't say anything for a while, but Daryl just knew that Connor couldn't keep it shut for long.

"I've just seen....ye know, when you were lying like that..where did ya get those scars on yer back fram?"

Daryl automatically looked down on himself and covered his bare chest.

"You've been lookin at me? I knew you’d be a fuckin pervert, you freak" he said, and immediately paled a bit at the realization that someone was actively asking him about these scars for the first time, had seen them.

"Fuck yerself" Connor just said conversationally, which made Daryl frown more.

"Screw you."

"Redneck hillbilly" the Irishman answered right back, leaning back a bit as he pretended to read on.

"Fucking leprechaun" Daryl retorted, and Connor smirked and looked up from his book.

"Nah but seriously. Yer practically shredded with scars. Who fucked you up like that? Or were you in an accident or something?"

"It ain’t none of your business" Daryl murmured.

"Come on, I've been inta some fights, I've got me scars as well, but those are pretty fu…”

"I said it ain’t of your business!" Daryl spat and Connor looked at him in surprise.

Then he said nothing and looked back at his book. Daryl felt sorry for his outburst but he simply would not talk about it. Not with anyone. After a while and Connor staying quiet Daryl sighed.

"Are yah going to hang yahself now?"

Connor scoffed.

"Course, you hurt my feelings. I just wanted ta cuddle."

Daryl scoffed as well and almost smirked for the first time, but he managed to fight the urge.

 


	11. Contemplation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So today I found this Norman quote on tumblr and thought it would be perfect for my fic, the Connor-Daryl relationship and so on:
> 
> ❝ _He isn't phony. If he's your friend, if he cares about you. He really cares about you. He would do anything for you._ _That's a beautiful thing I think._ ❞

Now that he had the time to think about it after all the trouble, he was actually starting to worry a bit.  
This was a new day. And after he’d already been told about it yesterday, he knew that it was going to happen today for sure.

Rick wanted to talk to him.

He was well aware of the fact that he still came across as pretty scary for most of the group. Although there had been no other option for him at the time and although he still didn’t know if he still wanted to die, even he had to agree now that his suicide attempt had been counterproductive and had happened at the wrong time. They were still in the early stages of their ‘relationship’ here. He still wasn’t that much of a part of this group yet. And they were still trying to make sense of him. He knew that a suicide attempt deemed him unstable and possibly dangerous to himself and others.

Maybe he had screwed this up.

Maybe Rick wanted to talk to him in order to tell him to get lost.

Connor gritted his teeth a bit as he walked down the hallway in order to leave the farmhouse and meet up with the former sheriff, forcing himself to stay optimistic and take whatever this was about with dignity.

He needed to get his shit together.

For Murphy, for Daryl, for whoever this other guy was now. He was injured. And he had convinced himself that this guy needed him for now.

It wasn’t hard to find Rick, or the others, because just like any other early morning they were back to organizing their search for Sophia. They had gathered around the map and were busy figuring out new search grids by the time he got to them.

Given the circumstances, Connor forced himself to seem happier and more content than they had ever seen him before, just to make them less wary. But even now he was immediately given looks as soon as he greeted them with a cheerful "Mornin, ladies" and placed himself between Glenn and Lori.

Despite the obvious act he was playing there was a part of him that was actually happy to be outside again. Apart from the heat he still liked this place because the chaos and destruction was absent here, and because farm life reminded him of his childhood home. And maybe he just needed the fresh air. Connor took a closer look at the map Rick was pointing at, purposely ignoring the looks he was being given.

“The creek flows south, past that farmhouse Daryl and Connor found. Maybe Sophia dropped the doll there, the current brought it downstream.” Rick explained and eventually looked at Connor with a little frown, looking almost like he was about to make a remark on his condition, his bruises, and the fact that he seemed to be interested in joining the search when he still wasn’t up to it. But Shane interrupted any such attempts and started talking instead.

“So what, you think she took this road here and then she went north?”

Rick looked at Connor a moment longer and then at his wife, giving her a slight nod. Then he turned his head to look at Jimmy, the farm hand.

“Yeah. What’s up that way?”

“A housing development. It went in maybe 10 years ago.”

Connor startled a bit when he felt a gentle nudge to his hip and turned his head to look at Lori who had successfully attempted to get his attention with said nudge.

“How are you feeling today? You okay?” she asked carefully, and he had a hard time containing the eye roll he nearly wanted to give her. But for the sake of staying with this group he refrained from a bitchy attitude and gave her a soft smile instead.

“Yeah, I am” he simply said and tried to keep listening to the talk about the search for Sophia, but Lori wouldn’t give her attempts up just yet. Connor was aware of the way she was staring at his bruised neck and profile, and he could almost count down to the moment she started talking to him again.

“Are you sure you should be walking around? Your neck looks pretty serious” she tried, fully living up to Rick’s earlier suggestion, but just like before Connor refrained from showing his annoyance over the way they treated him now just because he’d stuck his head through a freaking rope.

Rick looked at Shane in the meantime, oblivious to the conversation his wife had tried to start.

“Take a run up there after gun practice. I’ll hold down the fort here, but take backup. After what went down with Daryl, I don’t want anyone going out alone. We stay in pairs.”

“I’ll take suggestions on a partner” Shane said and got moving.

“I could come with ye” Connor spoke up right then and there, in order not to have to talk to Lori about his ‘condition’ and to let them know that he was still capable. Shane stopped in his tracks and looked at Connor with a frown, only to turn his gaze upon Rick, who placed his hands on his hips and looked down. The Irishman knew what this whole thing was about, but that just kept him going all the more.

“I’m a decent shooter, I don’t need training. And I could use the change of scenery and a little action. Truth be told, just lying around in there annoys the shit outta me."

Shane chuckled a little.

"With Daryl? I bet."

Connor gave a smirk but Rick put an end to that.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

The Irishman finally couldn’t fight his annoyance any longer and gave Rick a bit of a glare.

“Oh come on. I just wanna help ye people find that little girl of yers. I haven’ done anything else fer the past three days and I keep telling ye that I insist.”

"No. You're still injured. We can't risk you losing your consciousness in the woods with walkers around."

"I'm not going ta lose my fuckin consciousness, alright? And even if I do, I don’t need ye people worrying about me all the time now. I can take care of myself just fine.“

Shane scoffed softly.

"Yeah, we've seen that."

Connor let out a long frustrated sigh and looked down a bit.

“I need this, okay? And if ye people wanna start trusting me, gimme a chance ta earn my keep. That’s all I wanna do. I saved Murph from getting attacked by a dead one two days ago, didn’t I? I kept Andrea from shooting at ye people yesterday, and I…”

“It’s Daryl, alright” Shane corrected Connor, who turned his head to stare at him. Shane looked back at him and eventually let out a little sigh, too.

"Look, I think we can all agree that you ain’t exactly in the position t….”

“Oh, bullshit, why the fuck would _you_ care anyway.”

"Because you're part of this group now and because taking you out in the field like that puts others at risk. Your windpipe's compromised and your spine is sprained. One little blow and you're knocked out. Not to speak about the thing with Daryl and your brother. If you wanna earn your keep and be of use to this group you better get it back together quick, man."

“We need you for something else” Rick said after a moment and now it was Shane who gave him a bit of a glare.

“Andrea told me that you started teaching her a few things about her gun and Dale’s rifle. And that you told her that you were with the police?”

Connor looked at Andrea for a moment, then at Rick, considering his options. He knew that there was no way in hell he could tell them that he had been a serial killer on top of everything else. He chewed on his lips and looked down.

“Not exactly. It’s a bit complicated” he tried and Shane scoffed once more, making Connor glare at him a bit.

“We weren’t part of te force, alright? But we worked with a few Boston police officers and two FBI agents. We were assets on a big case. A few actually. We helped them take down a few mob guys. It’s South Boston, so go figure.”

They all looked at him a little closer, wondering if he was telling the truth.

“With all due respect, Rick. I don’t think it’s a great idea to give out weapons to a guy we don’t really know and who hurt himself and attacked us just a few days ago.”

“’With all due respect’, I had a fuckin rifle pointed at ye people yesterday. If I wanted ta shoot ye, I had plenty opportunities” Connor countered.

There was silence for a moment, but it didn’t take Rick long to go on.

“T-Dog’s gonna keep an eye on you. You’ll be an advisor and teacher only. No ammunition, safety on at all times.”

Shane was about to say something again, but Connor quickly cut him off.

“Fine.”

“Mr Grimes?” came somewhere to their right then and there, ending the discussion before Shane could argue some more. Beth and Patricia, Hershel’s people, had joined the group by now and were looking at Rick a bit hesitantly.

“We’d like to join you for gun training today.”

Shane scoffed and finally walked away, obviously very displeased with the constellation of his gun training practice now. Rick shook his head gently and looked at the latest additions to their party.

“Hershel’s been very clear. I can’t involve any of you in what we do without his okay.”

“He doesn’t like it, but he consented” Beth chipped in and Connor was just about to say something, but then his day took a turn for the worst.

He could see him.

Standing there, not too far away from them, leaning against a tree. He looked just like the last time he had seen him. Way too pale, blood all over him. Connor quickly turned away a bit, avoiding the sight, but sooner or later, he had to look back. He honestly had no idea why this had to happen _now_. It had been weeks since he’d last seen him like that, and he was fairly certain now that he _knew_ that this wasn’t real, that this shouldn’t happen, that this was wrong.

Murphy was standing there.

The _real_ Murphy. And now he was casually walking towards him, and he knew what this was about. Murphy wanted to talk to him. He wanted to be with him. And even after weeks of this happening before, he still wasn’t up to it yet. He couldn’t face him, and he sure as hell couldn’t talk to him. Not now. Not after yesterday, not with those people around him.

He quickly and shakily patted Rick’s shoulder once to get his attention.

“Alright, hit me up when ye get going. I gotta take care of men’s business real quick” he excused himself and got going, a bit quicker than necessary. He continuously kept his back turned on that tree and walked faster and faster, eager to get away.

He didn’t even notice how Daryl slowly and clumsily made his way down Hershel’s porch without anyone’s guidance or approval. Connor kept walking with his head down a little, eager to get behind the farmhouse and away from the group.

Daryl momentarily halted and looked after him. He’d already been prepared to snap at the Irishman to make him understand that he should leave him the fuck alone, but now that it was obvious that Connor hadn’t even paid any attention to him, he was a bit confused and surprised. Daryl considered just ignoring it and pulling his initial plan to join the group through, but with the look on the Irish guy’s face, he just knew that this wasn’t an option anymore.

After saving him from killing himself Daryl didn't like leaving Connor alone.

No matter how little he cared about the guy.

The Dixon part of him made him hate himself for his pathetic caring. He seriously just wanted to forget about Connor, mind his own business. But the truth was that he couldn’t. Daryl cursed and pulled himself back up again so he could round the farmhouse and follow Connor inconspicuously.

* * *

 

At first he’d considered running away again, just walking and walking until Murphy wouldn’t follow anymore which, frankly, was always _hard_ to achieve considering that his dear brother followed him fucking everywhere. Even when he was…..In the end, Connor knew that he couldn’t keep doing this forever. He knew that this wasn’t him, that none of this was right, so he eventually just settled behind the farmhouse, quickly sat down and started praying at first. A bit frantically, a bit shakily, but even that was useless. He kept looking back towards the corner of the farmhouse from time to time, expecting bloody Murphy to arrive and follow him once more, but that didn’t seem to happen for now.

So after a while, Connor just sat there and continued staring towards the edge of the farmhouse, staring into nothingness. Now that he had the time to let everything sink in, he finally acknowledged that it was a beautiful morning. Quiet. Almost peaceful. Connor placed a hand on his aching neck and massaged it absently, ignoring the flaring pain from the bruises. He rubbed and massaged until he let go, noticing the tattoo on said hand once more. He then proceeded to stroke the letters there with his right thumb, tracing each and every one of them.

 _Veritas_.

He knew what the truth was. He knew why Murphy kept ‘appearing’ to him or whatever the fuck was going on. He was there to remind him of the truth, make him face the truth. But even now, with this new group and this ‘new’ guy who looked so much like Murphy, he still wasn’t able to face it. In fact, that new guy made it even harder to face it.

“I’m sorry, alright” he muttered eventually, still looking towards the corner and occasionally at the sky. He knew it was a shitty excuse and he knew that it was cowardly and useless, but he didn’t know what else to do. He eventually chuckled miserably and looked down.

“Fer the first time in me life I don’t know what the hell you want, Murph. I know I should just..wait fer you and let you tell me, but….”

He took a deep breath and looked down, at the verge of tears once more although he _hated_ it.

“I’m sorry I fuckin failed….” he said and eventually went on. “I don’t know. I just….”

He kept looking down and chewed on his lips hard.

“I miss you so fuckin much, brother” he said and finally stopped fighting the tears as he frantically closed his eyes and kneaded his hands hard. After a very long while, he went on.

"I know that’s why yer still here. I can’t let go, and half of me' s missing for Christ’s sakes. I don’t know what te fuck I’m sapposed t’do” he said, grabbed some grass and eventually threw it away angrily. “But of course you had ta fuckin make me promise.”

He let out a long, quiet sigh and eventually looked at the sky again, trying to calm down.

“I'm just tired, Murph. So fuckin tired.”

"Yah like talking t'yahself?"

Connor startled hard and instinctively reached for his gun that wasn’t there. He looked up and was actually surprised to see his brother’s lookalike, and for a moment, that just seemed to make it worse. Daryl slowed down as soon as he was close enough to him, just staring at Connor with a slight “what the fuck is wrong with you” look on his face.

Connor just stared back at him.

There it was again. The elephant in the room. Murphy, the man he missed _so_ much and who had screwed him up like that was standing right in front of him. Except he wasn’t. The face was the same. The eyes were similar. But it wasn’t him. He wasn't hearing what he tried to say.

Connor sniffed apathetically and wiped his nose. Then the smirk was immediately there. Daryl knew he was faking it. Connor knew that the hunter knew. But no one said anything.

"Mornin sunshine, did Grandpa allow ye ta go out and play again?" Connor teased and Daryl scoffed.

"Shut up" he said, then there was silence. Daryl remained where he was for a moment, staring at Connor curiously but with a hardened look on his face and a frown. Then he eventually sat down next to the Irishman. Both men just let their gazes wander for a while, lost in thoughts.

“Shouldn’t you be restin a bit? Seriously Murph, what te fuck are ye doing here“ the Irishman tried to start the conversation after a while, still a bit surprised and confused by the fact that the redneck had joined him.

“Could ask yah the same thing” Daryl growled and Connor snorted once.

“And it’s Daryl” the hunter corrected him again. Connor nodded after a moment and looked down.

"Sorry. I didn’ mean t..”

Daryl scoffed, pushed both his hands in his jeans pockets and leaned further back against the farmhouse.

"Nah. I'm gettin used t'yer weirdo spasms anyway. But still. Better stop callin me that bullshit. Whacko."

Both men chuckled and then Connor looked at Daryl.

"How ye feeling? Does it still hurt?"

"Nah, just a scratch. I ain't some whiny bitch like you" Daryl said although the wound really burned and hurt like hell. Connor chuckled and looked away again.

"All right."

Daryl kept looking at him though, once again chewing on his lower lip until it almost bleed. It took him a while to get himself to do it. Even now he was constantly fighting the two opposing voices in his head. The human and completely raw part of him that had long since accepted that he liked Connor, and the Dixon part of him that still shamed him for caring. In the end, the human part won.

"You?" Daryl asked carefully and Connor smirked after a moment.

"Oh, fuckin brilliant. _It's just a scratch. I ain't a whiny bitch_ either" he said and imitated Daryl's accent. Daryl kicked Connor, who chuckled a bit and then rubbed his bruised neck absently.

“Who the fuck were yah talkin to?” Daryl asked after a moment, and Connor’s smiling and chuckling immediately died away. He looked back at Daryl but then avoided eye contact.

“No one.”

Daryl scoffed.

“Just randomly felt like tellin thin air ‘bout promises and shit then.”

Connor turned his head and narrowed his eyes at him.

"Did ye hear everything?"

"Pretty much, yeah" Daryl said, still slightly creeped out by the sight of Connor sitting here all alone, depressed, talking to thin air and once again looking like a complete whackjob.

"Fuck."

Connor let his head drop and then looked back up after a while.

"Ferget about it. It's nothing" he said and shifted, as if he was getting ready to leave.

Daryl tried to scratch the dirt off his fingers because it was equally awkward for him and he wanted to look a bit more nonchalant. But in the end, he still said it.

"Yeah sure. After you doing all that shit back in those stables, you creepin about places no one ain't gonna see yah's ' _nothin_ '“ the hunter muttered and Connor gave him a glare.

"What? Even if I did 'something', so fuckin what? Who are you now, my mom?"

Daryl shrugged and looked away.

“Hell, I don’t give a shit if yah try t’off yahself again. Ain’t gonna do shit this time. Just sayin, if yah gotta do what ya gotta do, better get your ass far away from our people this time.”

“I ain’t gonna fuckin ‘off’ myself, alright? Yer so called people are annoying the shit outta me with this all the time now.”

Daryl scoffed and kept fumbling about with his fingers.

“You’re too pussy t’pull it through anyway you stupid mick.”

Connor scoffed as well and looked angered and disgusted by the redneck for a moment.

"I sure as fuck ain’t scared of pulling anything through. You were the pussy who stopped it, not me."

Daryl wouldn’t say anything regarding that, because apart from the anger over the accusation and the fact that someone was willing to throw their life away, he was also even more worried now. Connor wouldn’t say anything anymore either. He searched his jeans for the last pack of smokes that he had instead. He fumbled with it for a while, wondering if he should take _another_ one and get it even closer to depletion, but then he decided to just fuck it. He needed one. So he grabbed it and lit it, exhaling with a relieved sigh. He offered Daryl one but he shook his head.

"You should have one. Makes ye less bitchy and more relaxed" Connor said.

"Fuck you" Daryl simply retorted.

“See?“ Connor teased lazily and almost cracked a smirk.

After a while of Connor enjoying his cigarette Daryl eventually tried again.

"Seriously. Why the fuck you talkin to some god or people that don’t exist?"

“What the fuck do you know” Connor said angrily and glared at Daryl, who didn’t seem to care about the fact that he was continuously insulting his religion.

"I know he don’t exist. Shit is screwed and shit happens. Ain’t no invisible dude gonna change shit. Maybe yah should stop all that whacko pretending and become useful” the hunter answered, which made Connor roll his eyes a bit.

“I am. While yer busy lying around because of your stupid arrow stunt, I’m goin’ out ta help people learn how ta shoot. Socialize. Make friends. Y’know.”

Daryl snorted.

“For real?”

“Aye. Yer sheriff asked me. Just waiting fer them ta get ready.”

“And you’re getting ready by talkin ‘t thin air, right.”

Connor boxed Daryl angrily, who punched him back.

“Hey fuck you, alright? Leave it the fuck be. I’m not talkin t’thin air.”

“No. Yah just keep yapping about this Murphy guy. Fuckin weirdo."

With that, Connor finally lost his patience.

"Who te fuck else am I sapposed ta tell, huh? None of you people knew him or know me. Or care about anyone except fer yourselves and your families. Well guess what, he was my family. My only family. Besides, I spent weeks all on me own. All I had to talk to was myself and ‘thin air’. I don't need ta talk to anyone anymore. I managed just fine before ye people."

Daryl scoffed.

“Yeah, we’ve all seen that” he muttered and looked away. Deep down he still had to acknowledge how much alike their thoughts were in that regard. Their thoughts and their history. After all, he had kind of lost his brother, the only guy he could talk to, too. And just like Connor, he had no one in this group to talk to either.

“Oh fuck you. Acting all tough redneck Joe although ye keep bugging me with yer wanting ta know. Maybe I would tell ye if you weren’t such a fuckin dick and hadn’t decided ta hate me before I even got the chance ta fuckin say something.”

"I don't hate yah" Daryl murmured after a moment, looking surprised and a bit stubborn.

Connor scoffed dismissively.

“Oh please. Stop bullshitting. Of course ye do. You keep tellin me. I don't need yer fake pity just cos you feel guilty. Surprise. I would’ve done it even without ever meeting you people. It’s not on you. So ye can fuck off like ye always do. Have a nice fuckin day."

“Screw you, how about you stop bullshitting with your offing yourself talk you douchbag?! We get it, you’re screwed. Bohoo. Ain’t my fault that me not hating yah don’t fit your self-pity crap. I just think that you’re a pain in the ass, that’s all. Now shut the fuck up.”

“Nah, fuck you” Connor said angrily and did just that. Shutting up and treating Daryl with silence.

"Right back at you" Daryl said equally angry and then suddenly grabbed the cigarette pack and lighter that were lying next to Connor in the grass where the Irishman had put them after lighting his smoke.

Connor eyed him with a frown, but eventually smirked a bit when Daryl successfully lit the smoke and started coughing. The Irishman looked straight ahead and wouldn’t stop smirking though. After a very long while, he talked again.

"Oh, so ye do smoke then?"

"Nope" Daryl said and coughed once more, but after a moment he gathered himself and Connor grinned.

“As if” the Irishman said in regards to the hunter’s/biker’s possible past. Daryl gave him a raised eyebrow but refrained from saying anything, certainly wouldn’t tell the Irish guy about the reason why he really hadn’t smoked until today. He just kept going on, trying his best not to look stupid and act the way he had seen countless guys in his surroundings do it before.

Connor watched him after a moment, taking note of the fact that Daryl’s hair was a bit darker here in the shadows. The cigarette in his mouth certainly didn’t help, or helped if he spun it the right way. Right now, Daryl looked more like Murphy than ever. If he just ignored the missing Aequitas tattoo on his hand and the wrong clothes.

“Look enough like this stupid Murphy guy for yah likin?” Daryl muttered a bit angrily when he noticed the staring. He looked down and spat on the ground, pretending to be all cool about it although the cigarette was disgusting.

Connor scoffed and looked away as well.

“Yeah. Sorry. It’s still embedded in my DNA, alright” he said and shook his head a bit.

“I get it” Daryl said and kept smoking while Connor watched. After a very long while of just hanging around Connor finally allowed himself to really think Daryl’s behavior through. Ever since the guy had cut his rope he had changed. Their relationship had changed. Maybe it was just the guilt.

The truth was that he honestly didn’t care about the reasons. He just appreciated the fact that the hunter finally let his guard down a bit, was nicer to him, seemed to maybe want to start a friendship, too.

"You don't have to, ye know" the Irishman said after a while because he knew that Daryl _still_ couldn’t stand any of this.

"Shut the fuck up" the hunter growled and wouldn’t disappoint.

And Connor grinned even more. He knew by now that Daryl hated to admit when he was doing something nice for people. He always tried to act extra tough and cold. Connor chuckled and hit his shoulder when he got back on his feet to get ready. Despite all his usual reactions to that stupid grin, Daryl couldn't help but feel relieved. He liked this Connor more than the guy he had just seen a couple of minutes ago. The crazy Connor who was talking to thin air, or the one who had tried to off himself. Not to speak about how he was crying and grieving every night in silence. Somehow Daryl knew that this Connor right in front of him was his true self right now. Cocky and confident, annoying, full of joy, relaxed and carefree. This was the Connor from the past.

"Alright, I better get going. 'Be useful'" Connor said as he sorted his clothes and looked towards the corner of the farmhouse. Not just to see if anybody was already on their way to get him, but also to inconspicuously check if Murphy was still there. Nobody was.

"'bout time" Daryl said and remained seated because he wasn't sure if he could get up on his own. He sure as hell didn't want Connor to see that he was in pain and maybe needed help with his wound. The Irishman just gave him a soft scoff and started walking towards the corner of the farmhouse. Daryl watched him leave for a moment, smoking cigarette in his hand, until he eventually called after him.

"Eh leprechaun."

Connor turned around again to look back. Daryl looked at him as well, then he finally spoke it out.

"Yah better hit the targets, not yah stupid brainless head, right."

Connor rolled his eyes a bit but then gave the hunter a bit of a smirk.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny....See yah, Murph."

Daryl gave him the middle finger as response, but the other man just waved him off with a chuckle and got going.


	12. Training

They reached the spot where they wanted to teach people how to handle guns around noon. Connor helped Rick and Shane by placing some empty bottles on the fence as targets, going to great lengths to make sure he did whatever they wanted from him and expected of him. He knew it was absolutely ridiculous and so unlike him to take orders and simply carry them out, but he really wanted to make this work. He knew that after all the suicide attempt drama and their first impressions of each other this was actually his first chance to really prove his worth and show them what he had to offer for the group.

He refrained from lecturing people when he saw that some of them were holding the guns wrong and instead stood back with the others to listen to what the former sheriffs had to say instead. It also gave him some time to think about his own past with firearms and his very own training, how him and…Murphy had been taught by their uncle in a farm field just like this one over 20-something years ago. Unlike his father or uncle him and Murphy had never had professional training, had never been in wars, but all those years of shooting Mafiosi had really paid off in the end. He was glad that they didn’t question his experience and past, just seemed to view him as welcome addition to their otherwise two man-cop team to train the others. But even now, especially now, he wondered how the hell he was ever supposed to tell them about his past. He hated keeping secrets. He hated more or less lying. But the relationship was still too fragile.

After a moment, Shane snapped him right out of his train of thoughts when he started talking.

"Gun work is serious business" the former deputy said and Connor sighed, moving his head a bit to get his sore muscles to ease up and get ready for the action. "Even if you do everything right, accidents, they still happen."

_Oh yes. Accidents with guns always happened._

Connor gritted his teeth and forced himself not to think about Murphy _again_ , but no matter how hard he tried, he could never fight the memories. _Glimpses of him and Murphy shooting shit back in Ireland, Murphy getting knocked on his arse by the kickback, the fucking cat on the wall, Murphy…in Boston. Bloodied. Hurt. Boston had been an accident. It had all been an…_ Connor squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and shook his head angrily, forcing himself to concentrate. He then quickly opened his eyes again and focused on Shane and his lecture.

"You always think before you pull the trigger. You always think fast, but you think. Know the consequences. You never fire a weapon unless you have a very good reason. And that's gotta be a reason that you can live with. Cos a death – that stays with you. That's forever."

So much for forgetting and focusing. Connor swallowed hard when he heard that.  
  
_A death. That stays with you. That's forever._

Not all the deaths he had caused had stayed with him. But some certainly had. One in particular. And he knew that it was forever. _Focus. Focus. Focus,_ Connor thought to himself and shook his body a bit to ease up when he felt himself get close to slipping once again.

"Carl" Shane called out and Connor looked up to watch what was happening. Rick’s son looked at Shane as well, only to give him a nod as he stepped forward. Rick, Shane and Lori were talking to the kid for a moment and the Irishman used the time to check his own guns, to be ready if they needed him for anything.

"Okay, Carl's gonna show us how" Shane said when he stepped back to give his friend’s son some space. The kid took his time to take aim and still missed, but everyone clapped and cheered anyway, even Connor. Carl had a happy smile on his face no matter what and looked at his parents for further guidance. Rick gave him a proud nod and nudge his son. He then passed Carl to walk back towards the rest of the group.

“Alright, three rounds a piece. Everyone stay alert. We’re taking a risk with the noise but it’s a necessary one” he explained and everyone got ready for practice. Shane joined his friend and started walking back, too.

“Just make these count! Range is hot!”

Their trainees prepared their weapons and started to take aim. At first, Connor stood somewhat behind them a bit awkwardly, but thankfully, it didn’t take Rick and Shane long to give him something to do.

“Alright, why don’t you help the little gangster over there, make yourself useful” Shane said and pointed at Jimmy the farmhand, who was holding his gun horizontally, pretending to be one of those movie thugs.

Connor scoffed as they both looked at him.

Of course they wouldn’t let him teach anyone of their group. Of course they wouldn’t let him anywhere near the women or kids.

“Sure” Connor still said after giving Shane a bit of a look and then simply walked forward. He whistled at Jimmy, who startled a bit and turned around to look at him. The others started shooting their targets in the meantime.

“Hey, come on. Yer not serious, are ye” Connor muttered and grabbed the gun from the boy’s hands. He could feel how Shane was instantly keeping an eye on him, but the Irishman didn’t care. They wanted him to be of use. So he damn right was going to do this the proper right way.

“Yer nat some gangsta wannabe. This is serious. Both hands on te grip. Hold it steady, finger off te trigger until right before ye wanna fire the shot. Strong, solid stance like this” the Irishman explained and showed the farmhand what he meant. “Take yer time, aim at what you wanna shoot, don’t wave about with the gun, focus. Take aim..” he went on and did what he was talking about, fully concentrating on nothing else but the glass bottles and empty cans on the farm fence. Then, he pulled the trigger once, then twice, then for a third time, hitting two bottles and a can and knocking them off the fence. “Shoot” Connor finished and then got the gun ready for his student. He lowered it and handed it back, overly cautious and way more textbook than he’d done it in a long time.

As he stepped back to let Jimmy try, he caught a glimpse of how just for a moment, the others had been watching him, especially Rick and Shane. A part of Connor already expected them to come forward and give him shit for taking a loaded gun when they had explicitly told him not to, but much to his surprise they actually wouldn’t. They simply walked on and let him do as he pleased.

Jimmy tried to copy what Connor had done in the meantime and successfully managed to hit a target after the third try. “Did you see that?!” he exclaimed excitedly in order to get his teacher’s attention.

Connor was momentarily preoccupied with the fact that Rick had just given him an approving nod, but he immediately got back to his student the moment the former sheriff decided to help his son.

“Yeah I did, man. Nice job” the Irishman told Jimmy and nudged his shoulder approvingly, only to correct his shooting stance a bit.

For a pretty long while they shot guns and practiced and Connor was really surprised to discover how much he actually enjoyed this whole thing. It kept his mind off things in a nice way and despite everything, his general mood and his past and his troubles, he still couldn’t fight the fact that he enjoyed other people’s company, enjoyed bossing people around and being on top of it again.

He was even more surprised when Shane eventually and almost casually told him to make rounds and help the others too, quickly including him in the entire teaching process with the rest of the group. No matter what they thought about each other, it hadn’t taken the deputy long to understand that Connor was the real deal, that he was an important asset and hadn’t been lying about his past experience with firearms.

Soon he’d made the entire round, helped Andrea and Beth and Patricia and Carol until he reached the Grimes family. With Rick personally helping his son, Connor naturally walked right past them to help the next closest person, but it was then when he was suddenly included.

“I’m never gonna hit it” Carl muttered, sounding a bit displeased, despite Rick’s tries to comfort him.

“Just give it time. You’re already doing a great job, son” his father answered, but Carl just kept his eyes fixed on Andrea and Connor.

“Jimmy could hit the target after he showed him” the youngest Grimes said and Rick found himself looking back and forth between his son and the latest addition to the group. Both parents exchanged a glance, urged by the disappointed look on their child’s face. After a very long while, Connor then heard Rick call his name.

The Irishman immediately looked up with a curious frown and then came over to them when Rick gave him a bit of a wave. Carl immediately looked at his father, seemingly embarrassed by the whole thing as he muttered a hushed “Dad”.

Connor could see that Rick was a bit unsure of him around his still injured son, but the Irishman got the vibe that maybe this was just another test for the both of them.

“Aye?” he asked as he carefully approached the Grimes family to see what they wanted.

Rick once again looked at his son and then back at Connor, only to finally crack a little smile.

“Carl here wants to learn your secret. How you manage to always hit the targets.”

Connor looked back and forth between Rick and Carl, only to crack a smile, too.

“Ye really wanna know?” he asked and Carl looked at him, only to nod shyly. Connor dragged it out on purpose, but in the end he didn’t keep the boy waiting for too long.

“Point and shoot, That’s my secret” Connor said with a wink, only to give in to a small chuckle. Carl gave him a bit of a frown and looked away, obviously not pleased with the answer. Even Rick laughed a tiny bit and placed a hand on his son’s shoulder to massage it.

“Come on.”

Connor kept his eyes fixed on them, wondering. Lori was carefully watching his every step around her son as well, so after a moment of consideration, the Irishman decided to ask first.

“May I?” he asked both adults and pointed at Carl and the gun. Lori looked at her husband and he looked back. Connor expected them to decline, but Rick surprised him once again.

“Sure” he said and placed himself next to his son’s other side to be there if need be.

Connor looked at Lori who eventually gave him a nod, too, so Connor gladly knelt down next to Carl, carefully maneuvered his arm around him and then held the gun along with him to help him take aim.

“Alright. Just take yer time. Rely on your instincts, your gut feeling. Don’t be scared, don’t be nervous. Don’t be anything. Just point and shoot. Just point..” Connor muttered and then gently adjusted Carl’s position and gun. Just like the boy he completely concentrated on the target, let everything else slip away. “And shoot” the Irishman went on and Carl immediately pulled the trigger, missing once again.

He let out a frustrated sigh and wanted to lower the gun, but Connor urged him to keep going.

“Nah ah, come on. One more time. Don’t get angry. Remember. No feelings. No thoughts or worries. Just focus.”

Carl looked at him with a frown, but eventually took aim again once he’d taken a deep breath. He just looked at the target, taking his time for a while, then he pulled a trigger for a second time. And this time, he  finally did hit something. He cheered and immediately looked at his father.

"I got it!" the boy cheered and grinned at Rick who smiled back and patted his shoulder. "That was a great shot" he complimented his son and seemed very pleased. Connor was pleased at first too and ready to say something as well, but his day took a turn for the worse once again when just for a moment, he caught a glimpse of Murphy not too far away from the fence.

Carl was still busy talking with his parents and being so happy about his first hit. Connor quickly got back on his feet and nudged the little boy once with a acknowledging “Well done, boy” to not seem too weird with his quickly distancing himself from the shooting range. “Be right back” he told Rick on top of it, but then he already and quickly got going because he _needed_ to get the hell away before things escalated and screwed everything up.

He turned his back on the group and walked away from them, just focusing on the grass below his feet until he decided to grab another smoke for relaxation. He did not dare to turn back around for a while, eager to forget about Murphy and his personal setbacks, but it wasn’t easy.

Now that he’d seen him, the flashbacks pretty much wanted to force themselves upon him. He could feel his hands starting to shake, hear the ringing in his ears and the smoke in his lungs only made it worse. After all, he was still having trouble breathing normally after yesterday. But it was almost a good kind of pain and struggle that accompanied it all, a struggle that helped him become grounded in the real world again.

“You alright?” he heard someone behind him say and startled a bit because he hadn’t expected anyone to follow him so soon after he’d just left. For a terrifying moment his still fragile mind was playing tricks on him and he thought it to be Murphy’s voice, but when he turned around he was facing Rick instead.

Connor coughed out some smoke and forced himself to relax, giving the former deputy a slight nod.

“Aye, sure. Just needed a smoke break and figured I shouldn’t be doin it around yer son” he lied and then rubbed his mouth a bit nervously, only to put his cigarette back in it. He then finally allowed himself to look back again.

Murphy wasn’t there anymore.

All he could see was the group still trying to shoot at bottles and Carl who was excitedly talking to his mother about his first hit target. Rick just placed himself next to Connor for a while to keep watch and occasionally fix his eyes on Carl.

“Thank you for that” he said after a moment, which made Connor look at him with a little frown.

“Playing along. He needs to learn not to be afraid around guns.”

The Irishman looked at Carl again and nodded.

“Aye, sure. Thanks fer letting me near ‘im and letting me try. ‘s the least I can do.”

They just kept watching the others and Connor waited for the former deputy to go on, but Rick took his time to say what he obviously came here to say. To make it less tense and awkward for himself Connor decided to break the ice a little more.

"He's a natural that one" he said and pointed at Carl with the smoking cigarette between his fingers. “Took me a whole lot longer than him ta hit anything when I first started out.”

Rick chuckled a little bit and looked down.

“Yeah. Shane’s secretly told him all about our work back in the day. Got him all excited about it. I guess that’s where this comes from.”

Connor didn’t know what to say to that, but he still gave in to a little smile. No matter what, he really appreciated the fact that they were trying to engage in some sort of small talk.

"Did you have any kids?" Rick asked after a moment and Connor scoffed in surprise.

"No, why?"

"Nothing. You just handled him pretty well. It already looks like you got a new fan" the policeman said as he watched his son with a proud smile on his face.

Connor smirked as he looked at Carl, too.

"Really."

“Yeah. You made quite the impression on him when you hit all those targets.”

And there it was again. The silence. Eventually, Rick finally got on with it.

“So what exactly did you do before this whole thing started?” the former deputy asked and simply looked at Connor questioningly. The Irishman slowly turned his head to face this group’s leader, but he still winced at the pain in his bruised neck.

For a second, he actually thought about simply telling Rick the truth because after all, he was all about that. He wanted to be honest, wanted them to trust him just so he could stay here and be with his brother’s lookalike. But he knew that it was still too early. Knew that he’d only just made some progress with Rick and his family moments ago. He simply didn’t want to destroy that. At least not yet.

“Did ye ever hear about Guiseppe Yakavetta?” the Irishman tried cautiously, but Rick thankfully just shook his head.

“Not that I know of.”

Connor nodded and faced the farm fields again.

“He was a big shot mafia don in Boston back in te 90s. We lived in south Boston, pretty rough back in te day, so go figure. I’m not gonna lie, we weren’t exactly sweet lil’ angels either and had our fair share of bar fights back there, too. But at the end of the day we fully lived up t’our faith ‘n church. We were nowhere near close t’these guys like Yakavetta” he explained and let out a little sigh. Connor took his time to think this through and simply took another drag on his cigarette first. Then he went on.

“Bein te way we were, we got int’a barfight over a few shots with some thugs that turned out ta be the wrong kinda people. These Mafioso’s nearly killed me and..me and my brother over it. We got out and survived but…we got dragged right inta it. Police. Feds. Mafia. Te whole deal. We picked up a few things back then, later fled back ta Ireland with our Da. He used ta be in the army, taught us a lot of things about guns and such. We was a lot of things. Meat packers. Dock workers, worked on a ship. Back in Ireland we were shepherds fer a while. Hunted our own food ‘n took care of sheep. That sorta thing. Had ta fend off wild animals and such t’keep te herd safe. So I’m..kinda used ta all this.”

Rick looked at him a little while longer, looked at him deeply, and Connor knew that the other man was especially looking at his bruises, too.

“You and your brother were close?” Rick even dared to ask, which made the Irishman scoff and look away. He took another shaky drag on his cigarette and then pressed his lips together after blowing out the smoke, started biting on his lips with a pained expression on his face, until he nodded and looked down.

“Very” he admitted and struggled really hard not to start bawling right away. “Never spent a minute apart ever since we were born. He was pretty much my fuckin everything” he said, voice breaking a bit until he angrily cleared his throat.

“Yeah” Rick muttered and kept his eyes fixed on Lori and Carl. “Family is everything.”

It was quiet for a long while as the leader of the group gave Connor some time to get it back together.

“Thank you for telling me more. I appreciate your honesty” Rick said after a while and Connor looked him in the eye. Rick took his time to go on, but not before carefully inspecting the Irishman for a final time. Then he gave in to his gut instincts.

“You’re part of _this_ now. This group. Just think about that from now on. After what I’ve seen today and what Andrea told me, what you just told me - we definitely need you here with us. And we need you alive and well. That’s all I wanted to say.”

Then he offered Connor his hand.

"Welcome to our group."

For a while, the Irishman just looked at it, thought about the two possibilities. He still didn’t know whether he even wanted to keep on living. Deciding against it meant giving in, allowing himself to let go, go and die in fact. Just like he’d planned to do it in the church before they had found him. Taking this hand, shaking it, agreeing to it, that would mean another responsibility. That would mean another promise.

_No. Promise..... Fucking_ _promise_ _me ye…won’t kill.... yerself. Promise._

Shaking the hand meant trying. Staying here. Living on. For the group, for someone else.

After a while of staring at it, Connor finally took the hand and shook it.

“Thank you.”

Rick gave him a smile and put his other hand on his shoulder. Then, with a nod, he let go, turned around and went back to his family.


	13. Night Watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** **setting:** ** between episodes 6 " _Secrets_ " and 7 " _Pretty Much Dead Already_ "

When they finally returned back to camp it was already getting dark outside. Connor was eager to get back to Daryl, who he still _thought_ to be the only friend and person he could tell about the exciting news that he was in fact a part of the group now. After wishing the Grimes family a good night with an overly enthusiastic fake grin and after giving Dale a quick nod when they crossed paths Connor made his way over to Daryl’s tent as quickly as possible without getting too much out of breath. He didn’t just go straight towards the pitiful place he called his home now because of Daryl, he was also eager to get rid of his sweaty and dirty clothes.

Ever since he had taken that shower a couple of days ago, gotten rid of all that dirt and crap on his skin, he felt filthier every time he successfully lived through another day here in this godforsaken and hellish warm country that was Georgia. And now more than ever, he felt the need to always look presentable as a proper member of this group.

“Would ye believe it…” he already started talking as he entered the tent only to find it empty. The Irishman frowned and scratched his head, only to look back and forth between the inside and outside of the tent. Daryl's crossbow was nowhere to be seen. All of his other stuff was gone, too.

At first sheer panic flooded his fragile system, making him think about the worst possible scenarios. _Had Daryl used the time to leave the group because of him? Because he was fed up with the whole deal? Or even worse, was he really so stupid to go out there and search for Sophia on his own? With that kind of injury? What if he had fallen off a cliff again and was lying around in the woods unconscious and in incredible danger?_

He knew that Daryl wasn't Murphy by now, but he still couldn’t just trick his instincts that were still telling him: W _here is your brother. Your brother is not here. You've got to look after him. You’ve got to protect him. **Don’t let him die**. _

Connor quickly got changed and then almost stormed out of the tent, trying to battle the panic. Luckily enough it didn’t take him long to find the hunter. He let out a deep sigh of relief when he saw how Daryl had just climbed up the ladder of the RV and was now making himself comfortable on the camping stool to take over night watch from Dale.

The Irishman even chuckled nervously as he rubbed his aching neck and then tried to casually approach the vehicle although he was still freaking out on the inside.

"Hey Murph, what are ye doing? Aren't yer sapposed ta rest?" he opened up the conversation all the while trying to give his worrying mind some rest and peace.

Daryl turned his head to look at him. After giving him a bit of a frown he eventually just scoffed and looked away again.

"Screw yah, I don't care" Connor heard him mutter.

For a moment, he stood around awkwardly, getting the vibe that Daryl was in a shitty mood again. But he still wanted to make friends, still wanted to keep an eye on him all the time whenever they were together, so he decided to still make that climb up the RV to keep the hunter company.

"Night watch?" he asked once he’d reached the top and did a horrible job at hiding the fact that he was out of breath and in pain from just such a small climb. Daryl just nodded and eyed him for a moment, giving him that weird frown again. Connor frowned right back.

"What?"

"You still ain’t dead yet?”

The Irishman just scoffed and sat down next to the hunter. For a moment he just stared across the fields and scratched his aching neck. Then he grabbed two smokes from his pocket. He flashed Daryl one and the other nodded after a moment, so Connor lit up both cigarettes and handed him one. The Irishman couldn’t hide the private smile that crossed his face because of it. He was keen to make that smoking together thing a mutual habit. For old times sake, because it reminded him of his time with…Murphy. Because it made him relax and forget about the fact that this wasn’t Murphy sharing smokes with him anymore. Now that Daryl seemed to take the invitations, it made the whole pretending easier again.

"How's te wound?" Connor asked after a while and Daryl growled and looked away.

He hated that people suddenly asked him how he was doing, if he was alright, if he needed anything just because of this stupid accident. No one had ever given a crap about him or his injuries before, so he didn’t get why they were doing it now. And he most certainly wasn’t used to it at all anyway, which was why he tried to play it down and avoid it at all costs.

"Just a scratch" he muttered and started cleaning his crossbow to concentrate on other things.

"Right" Connor said, knowing exactly what the hunter was doing. He waited for the other to go on but of course, Daryl wouldn’t talk, so he eventually went on, trying to keep the awkward conversation up. He just smirked and looked away, too, rubbing his left thigh and inhaling another cloud of smoke.

"When I got shot it fuckin hurt like hell."

Daryl kept cleaning his crossbow but eventually answered, exhaling smoke as he did so.

"Huh."

Connor smiled tiredly and shrugged.

"Gets better after a week or two."

The two men remained quiet for a while.  
Then Daryl finally took the bite and engaged in the conversation on his own.

"When the hell did’yah get shot? Today?”

Connor scratched his neck again and coughed.

“Haha, very funny. Nah. Quite a few times actually. Back in the 90s. Early 2000s.”

“Uh-huh” Daryl mumbled, trying to sound and look like he wasn’t exactly interested in the same ol’ past talk, although he was actually pretty curious.

Connor let him fumble around and wait for a bit, hoping that maybe Daryl would keep the asking and engaging up since he _knew_ that the hunter was dying to know more. But he already knew him well enough to get that Daryl wasn’t going to keep asking, so he did the talking after a long pause.

“Got into a bar fight with te wrong kinda people. Got us dragged int’te whole mafia- FBI thing in South Boston. Ever heard about that thing in the 90s? Kinda made national headlines.”

Connor tried to get close to the topic carefully. Although he needed the game of pretend, needed Daryl’s likeness to Murphy and enjoyed thinking that he was him, he still knew that he was actually talking to a stranger. A stranger who still didn’t seem to tolerate him too much, and who was certainly still looking for ways to get rid of him. Although Daryl was the only person he was ‘closest’ to in the group by now, he still didn’t know if he could tell him the truth about his past as a wanted and ex-incarcerated serial killer.

“Nope” Daryl luckily said, and Connor figured that it was well true and that the guy and his family probably hadn’t even had a television or newspapers in their home anyway.

 “Wasn’t exactly wounds from self-impalement on an arrow, but they occasionally shot us up good.” _And we came out top by shooting them up like fish in a tank even more._ He added in his mind, but refrained from letting Daryl know just yet. But he got nostalgic still.

“Killed some friends and family though. Motherfuckers” he added quietly and this time Daryl did look at him honestly, because he hadn’t expected that much info.

“That how your bro bit it?”

Connor looked at him in what almost looked like shock, then he immediately put up his walls again, looked away, and took a shaky drag on his cigarette.

“Anyway, you been fightin’ mafiosi, too? With all yer scars and shit?” he asked to change the topic, which made Daryl scoff, look away and shut down this time.

“Nah, gotta be deeper than that, I guess. Childhood shit, right? One af yer parents I assume?" the Irishman went on, taking a blind swing and somewhat trying to make it hurt. He wanted it for the other one to hurt just so he could forget his own pain over the mention of Murphy’s death.

And boy did he hit a weak spot.

"Shut up" Daryl growled and visibly tensed, which made Connor look at him questioningly, piercing the side of his back with his looks.

"Father?”

"I said shut the fuck up" Daryl spat and suddenly shoved Connor hard.

"Bullseye" the blonde responded and fell back with a gentle laugh.

"One more word and I'll kill yah" Daryl warned him and Connor sighed. He figured it had been kind of a dick move to keep poking at something that obviously still hurt the hunter very much. But then again, _he_ had been the one bringing up Murphy and making him hurt that much more first, so he considered them even now. He sat back up with a shrug and looked away nonchalantly.

"Alright, relax. I was just fucking with you. Ye don't have ta tell me shit if you don't wanna. I get it. TMI."

"Yeah, exactly" the hunter answered and scoffed. He moved a bit further away from Connor to get his point across and considered the whole talking deal done now. They still had their ups and downs with the latter being the majority. And right now it was exactly that. The Irishman weirded him out with his sudden talk about such personal things when they still didn’t know each other that much. Maybe the whole saving him from hanging himself and sharing a cigarette with him had gone straight to this crazy head of his. Daryl silently cursed himself for not being more careful around the guy.

"Talking about shit's good though. Helps most of te time" Connor went on in the meantime with what seemed like no care in the world. This made Daryl look at him in disbelief that was quickly getting replaced with anger.

"Yeah right, why don't yah fuckin start then. How come you’re sobbing like a fucking baby every night, huh? Yah wanna talk about that?"

Connor scoffed and looked away with an annoyed eyeroll.

"Don't know what yer talkin about."

"Every night, same time, I wake up and hear yah cryin next to me. Miserably. Don't deny it, it's been like that for five fuckin days."

"So?" Connor asked and gave Daryl an angry glare, which the hunter returned.

"It’s annoying as shit and people can’t sleep because of you whiny asshole. So go on, talk all ‘bout it if it ‘ _helps most of the time’_. Why won’t you shut up at night? "

"Because my fuckin _twin_ brother's dead, okay?!” Connor suddenly yelled loudly, face red with anger.

“So excuse the fuck outta me for waking up crying because of another nightmare of seeing him dying over and over. Every. fuckin. Night!" He threw his cigarette away and then got up angrily to get some distance from Daryl. For a while he just stood atop the RV with his back turned on the hunter and stared back at the farmhouse, swallowing hard.

"You don't know shit about what it feels like ta lose yer brother. I don’t give a shit if you can’t sleep you egoistic asshole" he murmured and then lit another cigarette.

 _Ah, here they were again._ Just like before Daryl felt an intense hatred grow inside him just like most of the time whenever he looked at the Irishman.

"You ain’t the only guy in the world who lost someone. I lost my brother, too! And I ain't cryin every fucking night. 's too much t'ask for when I say that I want yah to stop that shit?"

"Fine, I'll fuckin sleep somewhere else so Mr Asshole can enjoy his sleep" Connor spat and then actually looked at Daryl stubbornly and in an almost challenging way.

"I don't want yah t'stop because of me not sleepin but because of you, you stupid freak!" Daryl suddenly blurted out despite not wanting to say it. Both of them looked at each other in surprise. Connor was the first to scoff and even chuckle a bit in disbelief.

"What?"

And Daryl had enough with this whole childish bullshit right here. He wasn’t the kind to argue and fight like children. Wasn’t even the type to say much at all no matter how much some things bothered him. But here the Irishman was, annoying him to the core, making him speak up.

"It's pissing me off that yah so fuckin sad, alright?!” he snapped back and then turned around again so he could focus on cleaning his crossbow. He ended up scrubbing it a bit too harshly.  “Now shut the fuck up and leave me alone you whacko.”

For a pretty long while, silence and calm settled between them. After what felt like forever, Connor finally sat back down next to Daryl. He wouldn’t say anything though, and they both kept watch and listened only to the chirping of the animals in the night.

After some thinking and processing the whole argument, Connor finally had to ask.

"Are ye actually sayin ye care about me?" he asked after a while and Daryl just scoffed, giving him a disbelieving and annoyed eye roll that clearly said ‘ _you wish_ ’. Connor eventually cracked a tiny smirk and looked ahead again.

“Yeah. I was gonna say.”

Then, when Connor didn't expect an answer any more, Daryl suddenly did say something that caught the other off guard.

"I cut yah stupid rope, didn't I" the redneck muttered, oblivious to the meaning those words had to the Irishman.

Connor actually had to start laughing. Daryl certainly didn’t make it very hard for him to trick himself into thinking that he was Murphy. After all, Murphy had always called his ropes stupid.

"What the hell's wrong with yah" Daryl wondered with a confused and slightly disgusted look on his face. Connor took a deep breath and moved his fingers through his dirty blonde hair.

"Ah nothing, It's just..Murphy always hated my ideas. Especially when they involved a rope."

"Well, ‘m sure the guy would've loved your latest rope stunt" Daryl said sarcastically and Connor sighed.

"Aye. He would've cut me loose and then he'd kicked the shit outta me and _then_ he'd have killed me fer it."

Daryl nodded and threw away his finished smoke, too.

"Yeah. And I would've helped him."

Connor rubbed his neck and nodded, still smirking.

"Yeah. I bet."

He took it as some sort of peace offering between them, so he figured he could ask in a more friendly way.

“So what happened t’yer brother?”

Daryl slowed down his cleaning and chewed on his lower lip, jaw tightening. He considered snapping at the Irishman again for getting personal, but then he thought that maybe if he talked about Merle, Connor would share some more info about that Murphy guy in return. So instead of going off again, he decided to simply give the other man an answer that he started with a casual shrug.

"I dunno. Rick cuffed him to a rooftop in Atlanta and left him there. When we went back for him he wasn't there any more. Cut off his own hand that tough fucker and ran off. Even stole our truck."

Connor raised his eyebrows in surprise and acknowledgement.

"So he's still alive?"

"Course. Ain’t nobody gonna take Merle down but Merle" the hunter murmured and looked up to check for walkers.

"D'ye miss him?" the Connor asked curiously and Daryl gave him a raised eyebrow.

"He's my brother."

“Club of te lost brothers, eh. Lost and found” Connor mused more to himself with a sad look on his face. Daryl rolled his eyes and looked away.

"Don't even think 'bout it. We ain’t got nothing in common and I ain’t your brother. How many times do I have t'tell yah" Daryl interrupted him and Connor growled.

"Alright. Jesus."

They didn't speak for a while and Connor took his cigarette pack to count his remaining smokes. Three. Just three. And he had no idea where to get any new ones. This was the down side of living far away from big cities. Less walkers, but also less cigarettes. Christ. But he _needed_ them.

"So how _did_ yah lose yer brother then?" Daryl eventually tried again, now that he had spilled that Merle information. He knew he was incredibly bad at subtlety but didn’t care. He just wanted to know. Connor just stared at him for a while in a weird way. Then he turned his head and looked away again.

"Aren't that many walkers out here, don't ye think? Real fuckin quiet" he murmured and Daryl scoffed.

"So what, yah can ask questions and I can't?”

"I just don't wanna fuckin talk about it, okay? What do ye think, how I fuckin lost 'im. I already told you. I'm from fucking Boston. Big city that is. Big city with a shit ton of walkers. So you get te picture"

"So he got bit then?"

Connor glared at the man next to him.

"What part of "I don't wanna talk about it" don't ye fuckin understand? Are yer really such a fuckin hillbilly? Do I need ta write it down fer ye or put it on a record or something?"

Daryl growled and turned away.

"Keep yer shit t'yerself then, don't care anyway."

This time, the conversation was really over.

 


	14. When The Levee Breaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** between episodes 6 " _Secrets_ " and 7 " _Pretty Much Dead Already_ "

This was the first night where Daryl didn't just hear him cry. It was way worse. He was woken up by Connor’s tossing and turning next to him. Just like any other night the hunter wanted to immediately punch the Irishman again and complain about his constant keeping him up every night. However, the complaints got stuck in his throat the moment he saw the look on Connor’s face, heard him whimpering and talk to himself in his sleep. At first, he couldn’t quite understand everything, but it soon became clearer.

“Come on, no no no, ye can’t do that t’me, stay with me.”

 "What?" Daryl asked and looked at the other man in confusion.

" Don' say anything, just stay with me” Connor kept talking with his eyes still closed, which now just freaked the hunter out. He sat up and placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder, trying to shake him awake. But it was no use. Connor startled hard and shifted his head to the side abruptly, still in a deep and obviously terrifying sleep.

“I can’t do this on me fuckin own! Please, don’t! DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE!”

"Wake up!" Daryl yelled in his face and shook him harder. He stopped in shock and surprise when the Irishman suddenly started sobbing, even in his sleep.

"Fuck, there's so much blood…. Christ, Murph, what do I do? What do I fuckin do? _"_

"There's nothing yah gotta do, there's no freaking blood here, wake up, man! I’m tired of this shit!" the hunter answered and resorted to slapping Connor, who still kept going. The man was a complete mess by now. It had never been so extreme before. Daryl didn't know what to do, because then the screaming started.

Connor started yelling his brother's name. He was screaming madly and kept repeating Murphy’s name over and over again. At first Daryl just sat there, completely petrified, watching the blonde trash and turn and scream as if in utter agony. When the horror reached a new intensity, the hunter finally knew how to react to the situation. He clenched his hand to a tight fist and then actually _punched_ Connor hard in the gut with a terrified “HEY!” No more slapping or shaking, this was the only way. And boy did it work.

Connor’s eyes fluttered open and widened in surprise and confusion as he coughed himself awake and sat straight up. As soon as he had adjusted to the situation the coughs were quickly getting replaced by heavy breathing, making his sweat-drenched shirt stick even more to his heaving chest.

Daryl growled and fell back on his sleeping bag.

"Jesus, finally" he said angrily, narrow eyes fixed on Connor.

Lights and flashlights turned on outside, and it didn’t take long for Rick and a few others to come running.

“Daryl?!”

“What’s going on? Is it walkers?”

“We’re fine! We’re fine!” Connor shouted back before Daryl got the chance to answer. Not just his voice was shaking, his hands were, too, when he tried to open the zipper. His hand flinched back a little when somebody else was already opening up the tent from the outside. Then the bright beam of a flashlight hit both men square in the face.

The Irishman cursed a little and quickly covered his eyes with his hand. He didn’t just do it to shield himself from the light, he also did it to hide the tears he only just now realized he had shed during his dream.

“What happened, we heard a scream?”

“Daryl, you okay?”

Shane and Rick greeted both men, who rolled their eyes a little. Daryl took a short moment to consider his options. Now was the perfect time and opportunity for him to finally get Connor out of his tent. Be done with this whole thing, finally get some decent sleep each night. With this horrifying screaming deal the Irish weirdo had managed to wake the entire camp for the first time and he could tell that this time, Rick and Shane were worried even about _his_ wellbeing around the latest addition to their group.

He seriously considered flat out lying and telling them some shit to get Connor kicked out. But then he couldn’t help but look at the guy again, his heaving and sweaty figure and the look on his face that he couldn’t quite hide. Add the serious bruises on his neck to the whole deal and….

 _Well_ shit _. He was done for._

“Yeah, ‘m good. Whacko just had a weird dream, ‘s all. Ain’t got nothing t’do with me” Daryl answered and lay back down with an overly fake-annoyed huff, turning on his side to let them know that he was done with the whole thing. Shane gave Rick a bit of a look and Connor saw right through it. But just like Daryl he tried to play it cool although he was far from it.

“Aye. Dreamt I was in a fuckin plane crash or something like tha. Sorry I woke you guys up.”

Rick and Shane continued to look inside the tent a moment longer, making the whole scene seem almost comical. Like they were still police officers checking in on a DUI case, flashlights raised. And just like any other time, Rick was the first to give in.

“Alright. It happens to us all. Just…try to catch some more sleep. And…keep it down, okay?”

“Sure thing. Sorry again” Connor said with a subtle nod and then watched the former sheriff close the flap of the tent to call it a night for now. After a moment of waiting for them to be gone, he eventually let out an exhausted sigh and lay back down, too.

At first, Daryl just wanted to keep lying there and pretend that none of this bothered him and that he was asleep already. But the truth was that he just couldn’t get the screaming out of his head, the words he’d heard, the desperation in Connor’s voice. He knew the Irishman didn’t want to talk about his brother. He’d made it very clear earlier that night. But after everything, it seemed like his brain’d had some other ideas. He couldn’t get it out of his either, so he decided to break the silence barrier, now that the awkward thing had happened already anyway.

"Man I bet even the walkers in Atlanta could hear this shit" he said but Connor wouldn’t answer. “Musta been one hell of a plane crash” he kept bugging, not really sure how to address the real issue.

Connor only scoffed once. Daryl properly turned on his side so he could look at the other man. All the more did it surprise him that the previous sound hadn’t been a scoff at all, but another sob. The Irishman was still shielding his face although the flashlight was long since gone, but even in the darkness, Daryl could see the flow of tears. He immediately shifted away a bit, feeling even more uncomfortable. After what felt like hours of awkward silence between them, the hunter eventually spoke out the obvious.

"Jesus. Are yah cryin again?"

"Shut te fuck up" Connor finally answered and turned around, cutting the obvious Murphy issue talk short before it got started. Daryl just listened to his stifled sobs for a moment longer, then he had enough. He knew this was never going to end otherwise.

"Just tell me what the fuck happened in Boston. Jesus, yah can't go on like this."

"Fuck you" Connor said, sounding even more upset and angry, which made Daryl shove him hard.

"No, fuck _you_ and tell me! Cos I’m so sick of this shit and I ain’t gonna go on like this for another night."

Connor turned around abruptly and suddenly started punching and kicking Daryl then, obviously furious and annoyed by all this stress, the nightmare, and Daryl’s hard shoving. But he was still weakened from his suicide attempt and malnutrition, so it didn’t take the hunter long to overpower him and win the fight Connor had tried to start. After just a few pushes he managed to gain the upper hand and pinned the Irishman flat to the ground.

"Calm down you whacko!"

For a moment Connor's face was nothing but a grimace, ridden by anger and hate. He looked like he was going to murder Daryl for holding him down like that, but then something seemed to snap in him and all fight suddenly left him. He stopped struggling and turned his head to the side to avoid Daryl’s gaze.

"So what are yah gonna do now, huh? Let it all just be stuck in there and cry like a fucking baby every night instead?”

The hunter said angrily as he dug his pointer finger into the skin of Connor’s forehead.

“Hey, fuck ye and get t’hell off of me!” the blonde snapped, triggered by the touch and tempting. He looked straight up at Daryl in a challenging and slightly creepy manner. But Daryl wasn’t having any of it.

"Or what? Yah think 'm scared of a crying sissy like you? You wish. What happened t’ _”talking ‘bout shit is good and helps most of the time’_ huh? You’re so full of shit. You just ain’t man enough to…”

"I said shut the fuck up!" Connor yelled and tried to fight his grip, but Daryl had him pinned.

"..you just ain’t man enough to face…“

“FACE FUCKING WHAT, HUH? THAT I FUCKIN KILLED HIM?!” Connor finally blurted out, face red with fury and desperation. He just wanted the guy to shut the hell up. He wanted these nightmares to _stop_. He wanted _everything_ to just stop. So he just kept talking.

"I fuckin killed 'im, alright?” he repeated and glared at Daryl.

"I killed my own brother."

The hunter let go of his arms and Connor covered his eyes.

"I fucking killed 'im" he said once more and then sobbed as the grief over this realization completely took hold of him. This time Connor was properly weeping. For the first time after two months his twin's death and loss _really_ hit him.

He missed his brother so much and it hurt so much that he simply could no longer take it. Most of the time he had been numb and delusional. Wandering about almost like the walkers. Half dead, half alive. Then he had met Daryl and seen _this_ face again and it had broken him. Because no matter what he did, the pain and the truth, that realization wasn’t going to go away now. His brother was gone. He was alone in the world. And it was all his fault. And because of it and the promise, he had to live with that certainty for the rest of his life now. His suicide attempt had failed and it had been wrong. This was how it was going to be for only god knew how long. An endless nightmare, both in his dreams and whenever he was awake. Maybe this was hell after all.

Daryl was horrified. He had gotten used to Connor's stifled sobs, but now that he was having an absolute breakdown, he was too overwhelmed by it. This was more than he could handle. He felt at loss because nowhere in his life had he ever been _any_ close to something like this before. Other people had always handled that shit around their camp ever since this whole end of the world thing had started. But here he was now inside this tent with this guy, because when he’d had the chance to tell Rick and Shane to get him out of here tonight, he’d chosen the other option. He was here and he was supposed to deal with it and say something to make it less wrong. But he had absolutely no idea how.

 It took Connor a while to calm down and when he stopped covering his eyes he just looked at Daryl who was sitting on top of him. The Irishman eventually took a deep breath and sniffed.

"Just let me go now, alright?"

Daryl kept staring at him like a rabbit caught in headlines until he finally moved and sat back down next to Connor. The Irishman coughed and got up into a sitting position because he was having trouble breathing. He also just needed another couple of seconds to himself. Daryl wouldn't say anything, wouldn't tease him or yell at him anymore which was quite weird for him. After a moment he figured that maybe he still wanted to know, was probably waiting for him to talk. And after a while of living through vivid and horrifying flashbacks, he forced himself to do so.

"We barricaded ourselves fer a bit, and it really wasn't too bad fer a while. But Murph wanted t'leave. Get outta the city. I fucking told 'im that it's too dangerous to make our way through downtown Boston. But we were running outta food and there were more 'n more walkers... There’d been talk about boats leaving town back at Boston Harbor, that there was a refugee camp inside the cruise terminal there. But of course there were no fucking boats."

He took a deep breath and shook his head, his eyes looking empty and lost.

"There were just the dead. Thousands of them. We got surrounded, and one of them got 'im." Connor moved his hand through his hair and fought another wave of tears. "'t was my fault. I didn't watch his back. I was up front and wouldn't stop yelling at him cos of his stupid plan, saying it was his fault we were neck deep ‘n shit. Then I heard 'm scream and….” He squeezed his eyes shut and for a moment there was nothing but silence. Daryl just listened. Connor cleared his throat awkwardly and rubbed his hands shakily.

“I managed t'get us outta there, hauled him inside a building. I thought maybe if we just stayed there, closer t’the harbor, maybe I could get ‘im fixed somehow or that someone’d come back from te camp. But there was just too much fuckin blood. One of these…things, they’d managed t’rip a chunk of his shoulder out, hit an artery, and I tried t…" his voice broke and he quickly hid his face to conceal another breakdown. Daryl patiently sat and waited, until he had the guts to talk.

"So 't was a geek that killed 'im, not you" Daryl said quietly, a miserable attempt to make it any better for Connor. But of course, it didn’t make any difference.

Connor scoffed and stared at Daryl with an annoyed look on his tearstained face.

"'f course t’was a geek that caused his injury, but it was _my_ fault he got bit. _I_ wasn’t close enough. _I_ didn’t pay attention. _I_ didn’ protect him. This shouldn’t have happened but it did and then.."

His voice started shaking and he took a deep breath.

"Ah fuck. Jesus.." he wiped his nose and sniffed.

"And then what?"

Connor swallowed and didn't say anything for a while. When he turned his head he looked absolutely broken.

"And then he bleed t'death in my arms, got back up and I shot 'im in the head" he whispered and just looked at Daryl. They looked at each other and the hunter wanted to say something, but he still didn't know what to say or what to do. Connor lay back down and started staring at the ceiling with a sigh.

"Y’did what yah had to do. That ain't no reason t’try to hang yourself, man. ‘t wasn’t your fault" Daryl eventually said and Connor scoffed.

"Damn fuckin right it was. He wasn’ supposed ta go before me. He _died_ becausa me. I’m his _brother_. I was supposed ta keep him safe. I always did and then I didn’t and it’s all on _me.”_

Daryl growled.

"Stop that shit now. Yah can't go on like that. Ain't gonna solve the problem."

"There ain't no problem" Connor countered stubbornly and Daryl got angry.

"There obviously is, you're a wreck! You tried t' kill yourself!"

"Oh don't fuckin start. Don't bring that up every fucking time now" Connor growled and turned away.

"But you did. Man, yah scared the crap out of everyone" Daryl said and shook his head. "Seriously, yah can't go on like that. It ain't good for any of us. Get your shit together. Rick didn't take yah in for nothing. We don’t need any more missing or dead people. We need people alive. Including you whacko. "

Connor scoffed.

"Like you’d care."

"I fucking do, okay? I'm sick of this shit. People assuming they fuckin know me. I got people I care about, too, heck, I lost my brother, too! Everyone's lost someone these days, that's why it's called survival! So stop pretending you’re some sorta special snowflake here and face it. The world ain't fair to no one no matter what. So get over it" the hunter countered, slightly shoving Connor once more, who just answered with a defiant "Fuck you."

“Y’know what. Forget it. Fuck you, too” Daryl said and gave up with an annoyed growl. He turned his back on the Irishman and both men let out a final huff. It took them a while to cool off, and Connor just stared at Daryl's back. He looked so much like Murphy that he felt hurt all over again. He missed the nights they'd spent next to each other. The first month after he had lost Murphy had been absolutely horrible for him. All alone all the time, sleeping alone, living alone, surviving on his own.

He had always dreaded talking about Murphy's death, which was why he hadn't told anyone yet. Now that it was off his chest though he had to admit that he did indeed feel a bit better. The fact that Daryl had shown some real interest and concern for the first time only added up to it.

The Irishman had still thought that the man with his brother's face despised him, but maybe he had been wrong. Because despite all the fighting and punching Daryl had just shown once again that he wasn’t quite so indifferent to his suffering. Connor sighed and eventually moved closer to the hunter, still out of sheer habit. He could feel how the other man tensed and feared another punch, but he didn’t care. He really just needed to go back to some sort of pretending to get his mind off things, forget the terrible nightmare and talk. Body contact had always been important to him and his twin, no matter if it was a simple nudge or a proper hug. And he was going to get it now. No matter how much Daryl hated it, hated to be near anyone.

"Fuck off" the hunter growled and immediately tried to shove him away a bit, but Connor wouldn’t move an inch. He expected Daryl to turn around and start another fight but nothing would happen. The Irishman stayed alert for several minutes, and although Daryl was really tense, he just wouldn't move or say anything else. He tolerated the fact that they were only inches apart tonight. Connor smiled and moved even closer.

"Thank you."

"Shut yah stupid cakehole" Daryl growled but wouldn't fight him.

 


	15. Stand Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **ATTENTION (11/04/17)** : this is one of the older chapters. Starting from here, I haven't been able to fully update the following ones yet. This means that a tiny bit of continuity is broken atm. But I'm getting there. There's gonna be a few more updates each month until I get to the last chapter.
> 
>  
> 
>  **setting:** between episodes 6 " _Secrets_ " and 7 " _Pretty Much Dead Already_ "

The heat of the sun woke Daryl up. He groaned gently and tried to turn on his back but it was impossible. He felt Connor's arm and leg around his waist and thigh and he was holding him so tight that it was impossible to move. He growled and let his head drop again. "Jesus" he murmured and glared at the ceiling for a while. He could feel the other man's chest rising and falling against his back with every breath he took. Daryl sighed and turned his head to look at sleeping Connor behind him. 

Ever since he had tried to kill himself just a couple of days ago there was always that certain fear of waking up to an empty spot next to him and finding Connor hanging somewhere again. But he could feel him breathing and relaxed a bit. He knew that it was kind of stupid and pathetic. He was supposed to hate the blonde, but it were moments like this that made it impossible for him to hate the guy. Quite the opposite. After that crazy suicide attack he was glad that he was still alive. Just finishing his thoughts made him angry again. 

_Was that asshole turning him into a sissy like him now?_

He growled and got rid of Connor's arm and leg. The Irishman moaned and turned on his back to sleep on, but since Daryl thought he needed a decent payback he decided to slap his face. The Irishman's eyes snapped open and he grabbed his cheek.

"What te fuck?"

"Morning sunshine" Daryl said and sat up.

"I told yah t'get yer hands off me."

"I get _yer_ hands off ye fer that!" Connor growled and kicked Daryl's thigh, who boxed and kicked back.

Once again they started another day with fighting and beating the shit out of each other until Daryl managed to grab Connor's bruised neck and Connor managed to box Daryl's wound. Both of them groaned in pain and stopped immediately. The Irishman was still lying half way across his friend who pressed his hand on his injury.

"Yah fucker!" he grunted and Connor was still gasping for air.

"Redneck asshole!" he answered and for a while they just lay there like that and groaned in pain. Connor got up and eyed Daryl.

"Yer alright? Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean ta hit that."

"Yeah, yah better say the truth. I'll kill yah if yah did it on purpose."

Connor flashed Daryl his tattoo with an raised eyebrow and then lifted Daryl's shirt up.  
He slapped his hands away but Connor wouldn't leave it and checked on his stitches.

"Ye're going ta live."

"Yeah ,but I'm not so sure about you yah stupid asshole."

"You punched me in te face, you started et!"

"Because you had yer fangs all over me again!"

"Fuck you, I didn't! I'd never touch ye, you were just having a wet dream, admit it!"

And Daryl punched him again but this time with his fist. Connor groaned and fell back. It took him a moment to focus again because Daryl had hit him pretty hard. He placed a hand on his eye and groaned. One moment Connor considered fighting back but then he remembered Daryl's injury and how furious they both were. They'd end up beating each other dead. He massaged his abused eye and then looked at Daryl. He was having trouble seeing properly because his left eye was swelling already. Connor took a deep breath and relaxed his hands that had been clenched to a tight fist. "Right" he said and grabbed his clothes to change. Daryl was quite surprised himself. It hadn't been their first fight. Most of the time they really meant to hurt each other. They had enough bruises already, but in the end they had still managed to keep track of their injuries. It didn't take long and Connor's left eye was swollen and black. Daryl had never managed to really beat him black and blue before, so he felt uneasy about it.

"Yah ok?" he asked after a moment of gathering himself and calming down.

Connor grinned at him.

"Af course Murph. I just happen ta be the mature one taday" he said and pointed his gun at Daryl.

"Ye know I could beat te shit outta you fer that. But I don't want us ta kill each other in te end. So I'm going ta let ye win this time."

There was a thin line of blood running down his eye and Daryl felt even more sorry. 

_Hadn't he refused to become like his father?_

"Yer bleeding."

Connor placed a fingertip on his cheek and looked at the red spot for a moment. Then he smirked at Daryl. He looked horrible like that.

"Good punch, dear brother" he said and left the tent.

* * *

Connor had trouble seeing properly but in the end he managed to get outside the tent and head for the camp.  
People looked at him in surprise but he just smiled at them although his eye and head hurt pretty badly.

"Me and Daryl today?" he asked Rick and Shane who stood around a car with the map again.

Both men looked at him in surprise and then Rick frowned.

"What happened?"

"Ah, just fell" Connor said and Shane raised an eyebrow.

"I've never seen someone getting a black eye from falling."

"Yeah? Now yer seeing one. So. I wanna join yer search again. How about I take that grid?" he asked and pointed at the map.

"Connor.." Rick began but Connor pointed at him.

"Don't fuckin start...and you shut the fuck up an don't touch me with yer stupid macho behavior" he said and looked at Shane who snorted.

"How are yah supposed to find a little girl, hiding in the woods, when you can hardly see a thing? You can't even protect yourself or shoot like that buddy."

Connor grabbed his gun and turned around. He aimed at an empty beer can that stood on top of a car and shot it.  
One clean shot knocked it off the car, although it was quite some distance away. He turned around again and looked at Shane.

"Oh believe me 'buddy' I can shot an ant fram here."

Shane and Rick looked at him for a moment and Shane smirked.

"Alright, Saint Connor."

The Irishman put his gun away and walked off.

He came to join Glenn, Carol, Carl and Lori and sat down.

"Morning ladies, boys" he greeted them and ruffled Carl's hair.

"You look better every day little man" he said to Carl and smiled at him before getting some food from Carol.

He thanked her and started eating.

"What happened to you?" Lori asked and he looked up. He smirked.

"How come every time I see ye Lori yer telling that me I look terrible? Might as well just tell me that you can't stand me face."

Lori smiled for a moment but then looked worried again.

"Daryl?" she asked and he ate on for a moment, then he shook his head.

"Nah. I fell last night."

Lori raised an eyebrow and Carol looked at him questioningly.

"Seriously, don't you guys think you should stay out of each others way? I mean we can hear you fighting every night and day" Glenn remarked.

"I said t'wasn't him" Connor said and looked at him for a while. Glenn blew out some air and seemed to decide to let it be.

* * *

After a while Daryl came and joined the group. When he wouldn't dare to look at Connor people knew the truth and eyed him angrily.  
Of course, now that Connor was the group's new favorite pet, they would use any opportunity to hate on **him** again.

"Daryl?" Rick called and Daryl looked up.

"Come here for a minute."

Somehow it dawned on him that the so called big bosses of the group were going to call him shit because of Connor's black eye.  
He was on his way to join Shane and Rick when Connor got up as well and joined him.

"What is it? Can he join the search again? I'd like ta be in a team with Daryl again."

Shane laughed.

"Oh come on."

"No, really! Remember what you said about not going out there alone? I wanna join yer search and so does Murph. 'm tired of sitting on me ass here, so I'm gonna go out and search fer yer girl taday. Better take someone with me, in case walkers attack and I don't see 'em coming."

"Speaking of which, Daryl. We wanted to have a word with you."

Daryl snorted.

"Why? Yah ain't my boss."

"We heard you two hotheads fighting just a minute ago. We know you gave him the black eye" Shane said and looked at the hunter.

"So what? Are yah goin to give me one in return Mr SuperCop forbidden grabs of the year?" Daryl countered and narrowed his eyes.

"We just think..you should stay away from Connor, Daryl" Rick said and Daryl exploded.

"What the fuck do you know?Are yah going to point gun at my head again if I don't? You're not giving me orders, the two of yah!  
Thinking yer the kings just cos yah used to be the freakin police! Yer not the authority no more!"

Shane was just about to hold Daryl back again when Connor shoved him and held Daryl back himself.

"Calm te fuck down now! Jesus, Murph. And yer calling me a hothead."

"But they can't just.."

"Daryl!" Connor shouted and looked at him but of course Daryl couldn't look him in the eye.

Because Connor looked horrible. And it was all his fault. The Irishman placed his hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently.

"Easy. Calm te fuck down."

Connor looked at Shane and Rick.

"We're just stressed. Okay. We respect te group and yer rules,but you can't decide over us. That stupid redneck's grown on me, he's like a brother ta me. I fuckin need that bastard in me life. He punched me in the face because I punched him in te guts. It's our bodies, and if we decide ta beat te shit out of each other ye let us do that. As long as we're not attracting walkers ta our camp, it's none of yer business."

Daryl just stared at Connor in surprise. He was surprised because for the first time someone wasn't simply holding him back during a fight. This time someone was _standing up_ for him. He was surprised because of what Connor had just said about him, that he cared about him, even after the black eye thing. And he was surprised to hear a perfect summary of their relationship. Because it was the truth. They happened to be in a violent love-hate friendship. Both of them needed to take it out on each other, because their temper needed a decent fight.

"You're going to kill each other" Rick said with a sigh and Shane snorted.

"Wanna bet who's dead first?"

"Fuck you!" Daryl spat but Connor held him back.

"So what, let him kill me" the blonde MacManus said to Rick and Shane.

"So it's me an him today?"

Shane snorted and shrugged after looking at Rick for a moment.

"No. Daryl should rest for another day. We can't risk his life" Rick answered and Daryl snorted as well.

"Yeah, cos yah care so much 'bout me."

"Okay" Connor gave in because he wanted to get his friend away from the two policemen, especially Shane.

He grabbed Daryl's arm to get him to move.

"So that's why yah not mad at me because of the eye" Daryl murmured and Connor frowned as he dragged him along and back to the camp.

"What are ye talking about."

"Yah fuckin want me to kill yah."

Connor stopped and just looked at Daryl for a moment, who automatically looked down because of Connor's eye.

But the moment he had looked at him was all he needed to know the truth.

"No way."

Connor just snorted and walked on.

"Suicide's a sin, Murph."

For the first time Daryl _really_ thought that the Irishman had lost it.

"No way" Daryl said again and Connor looked at him.

"You really think so? Sooner or later yer going ta snap again,with that temper? I've just seen yah. Yer an animal.  
Sooner or later yer going ta kill me if we go on like that."

"Then we fuckin don't!"

When Connor didn't answer Daryl stopped.

"For Christ's sake, no way, you stupid freak!"

Connor turned around and just looked at him.

"Just forget about it. Never said anything."

"You and yer stupid suicidal shit!" Daryl shouted after him.

The group turned around and looked at them in surprise. Connor just snorted and left.


	16. The Barn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe they're already discovering the barn. Oh my. Oh my.
> 
>  **setting:** episode 7 " _Pretty Much Dead Already_ "

Connor and Daryl joined everyone for breakfast around the campfire. The hunter was still angry at Shane and Rick, but right now he was more worried about his hunger. Christ, his wound made him way more hungry than usual. Connor still wouldn't eat much. He wasn't used to eating regularly any more. For the past couple of months he had been all on his own, and sometimes it had been hard to get new food. Although he had been working in a meat packing plant and on their farm in Ireland he had never been able to go and hunt his own food. It wasn't because he couldn't shoot animals, tracking them down and waiting and not scaring them away had usually been the part where he had failed all the time. Every once in a while he had managed to catch something small, but that was about it. The Irishman had lost a lot of weight after his brother's death, right to some point where he had stopped eating completely a couple of days before Daryl and the group had found him. Now his stomach felt too small and the smell of flesh and food still made him feel sick. He was somewhat trying to get some of the scrambled eggs down when Glenn got up.

" Um...Guys?" he asked and everyone looked at him curiously.

The Korean seemed rather nervous again and wouldn't stop looking at Dale.

"So...the barn's full of walkers."

Connor swallowed hard and glared at him in surprise, and so did the rest of the group.

"What?" Andrea asked.

"How would you know?" Shane asked and Glenn played with his fingers nervously.

"I was there last night..I..heard them. I saw them."

"And you waited the whole night?"

"Dale said it was best!" Glenn defended himself and looked at the old man.

"You knew?" Shane looked at Dale who tried to soothe everybody.

"It's safe, I've been there myself, they didn't come out the entire week and with Connor, Daryl, Carl and T- Dog injured I thought it was best not to bring this up any time soon. We can't have a fight with Herschel now and risk that he might throw us out."

"Listen, Dale, the day we let an old grandfather take over the lead is the day I throw myself in front of a herd of walkers!" Shane spat and ran off.

All hell broke loose as the group ran after Shane. They were shouting at him and Connor and Daryl followed them. Suddenly the farm didn't feel so safe and quiet anymore. Once they had reached the barn everyone fell quiet as Shane approached the doors. The barn doors shook violently and everybody startled. Connor grabbed his Beretta and pointed it at the barn, but Rick placed his hand on it and pressed it down.

"Oh my god, how many are there?" Lori asked.

"About a dozen maybe. They're wandering about like in a horror show in there" Glenn answered and eyed the barn nervously.

"You cannot tell me you're alright with this" Shane said, looked at Rick and backed off.

"No, I'm not but we're guests here! This isn't our land" Rick answered angrily.

"This isn't right man!" Shane spat.

Connor nodded angrily. If it were on him then he would just shoot them all inside the barn.   
He hated those things more than anything in the world. He tried to get his gun back up again, but Rick glared at him and shook his head.

"Lower your voice!" Lori said then and eyed Shane.

"We can't just sweep this under the rug" Andrea joined in and a few nodded.

"We've gotta go in there, we gotta make things right or we gotta leave right now. We've been talking about Fort Benning for a long time" Shane said and pointed at the barn. One could tell that he was getting angry and that he'd lose it soon. Connor frowned when Shane mentioned the fort and looked at Daryl.

"Fort Benning?"

"Yeah, we were on our way when we lost Sophia and found yah."

Connor snorted.

"Well thank god ye did, it's a dead end. I was there. Just as much overrun as any other place. It's all fucked up."

The group looked at Connor in surprise and then Rick turned towards Shane again.

"We can't go!"

"Why Rick, why?" Shane asked. He was really curious because he didn't get it.

"Because my daughter is still out there" Carol said then and looked at Shane who just snorted and shook his head.

"Okay..Okay I think it's time that we all try to consider the other possibility.."

"Shane we're not leaving Sophia behind" Rick interrupted him and Daryl had enough as well.

"I'm close to finding this girl I only just found her doll a few days ago."

"You found her doll Daryl, that's what you did, you found a _doll_."

Shane was making fun of Daryl again and this made Connor angry as well. He hated how this guy treated Daryl.  
Sometimes he wondered if he was the only one in the group who saw his potential and not only because he looked like his twin.

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about" Daryl spat.

He was about to lose it again. He approached Shane and the way he clenched his fists Connor knew it would only take one more sentence to make him snap.

"You know it needs to be said Daryl, I'm the first to point it out.." Shane answered and Rick shoved him because he knew what his friend was about to say.

"Shane shut up!"

"Let me tell you something else man, if she was still alive out there and saw you coming all methed out with your bowie knife and geek ears around your neck she'd run in the other direction!" Shane spat and Daryl darted forward to punch him.

"Shut up!" the hunter growled growled.

When he was just about to punch Shane in the face Connor placed himself between the two men and tried to stop Daryl.

"Calm down Murph! Jeez, ye know he's an asshole!" the Irishman tried to calm him down but Daryl wouldn't calm down.

"Yeah come at me man!"

Shane seemed to enjoy how easy it was to make Daryl snap. The latter tried to punch him again but instead of hitting the policeman, he managed to punch Connor right in the face again . This time he hadn't meant to do so since the Irishman had nothing to do with this. Connor staggered backwards and grabbed his aching cheek in surprise but once he'd gathered himself he stepped between Daryl and Shane again.

"Back off!" Rick told Shane and Lori placed her hands on Shane's chest to push him away.

"Keep your hands off me!" he warned her and walked away.

"Just let me talk to Herschel! Let me figure it out" Rick said and this made Shane turn around again.

"What are you going to figure out?" he shouted at Rick and Lori placed herself in front of her husband.

Now that Shane wasn't picking on him anymore, Daryl turned to look at Connor who was holding his jaw as if to make sure everything was in place.

"Sorry I hit yah" Daryl murmured and Connor shrugged.

"S'alright, got bigger problems right now, aye?"

Daryl nodded and they both turned their heads when they heard Lori shouting at Shane.

"Enough!" she said but he ignored her.

"If we're gonna stay, we gotta clean out this barn and we have to talk him into it. This is his land" Rick went on and Dale stepped forward.

"Herschel sees those things in there as people...Sick people. His wife, his stepson." he said and everyone looked at him. Shane snorted angrily.

"The man is crazy Rick, if Herschel sees these things as people, alive or not,..." he snapped but was interrupted when the barn door started shaking again.

They could hear loud and angry moans coming from inside and all that hold the walkers back was an iron chain and wooden doors.

"Shit" Connor muttered and grabbed his gun once more. Rick shook his head but the Irishman just ignored him.

"I _will_ talk to him first." Rick said and eyed his friend. After a moment Shane just shook his head with a snort.

"You're just as crazy as him, man."

He turned around to leave. For a moment they just watched him walk away and then Rick turned around to face the group.

"I'll go and try to talk to him. Daryl, Connor, you keep watch. The rest of you go back to the camp."

* * *

Daryl and Connor were sitting on the tractor opposite the barn and kept watch.

"Crazy shit" Connor said after a while and lit a smoke. Daryl nodded and waited for him to give him one as well.

"Some people..." Daryl murmured.

Connor scratched his neck and coughed.

"Ye think they're sick?"

Daryl snorted and shook his head.

"Stupid filthy dead pricks. Not worth a damn."

"Aye" Connor muttered and shrugged.

"If it keeps the man sane. I mean it's a good idea but seriously, what te fuck. Keeping them in there like fuckin cattle."

"We could go in there and shoot them" Daryl suggested and Connor snorted.

"Just so they kick us out?"

"It's for the group."

"Aye but they're so stupid they wouldn't get what we're doing fer them. I mean they don't even get what ye've already done fer them."

Daryl snorted.

"Did nothing for those stupid pricks."

"Yer lookin fer the girl. You bring their food, don't ye?"

Daryl just shrugged and Connor blew out a big cloud of smoke.

"You know what I don't get?"

"What?"

"Why yer still acting like that."

"Like what?" Daryl asked and frowned.

"Ye know, all _tough_ and _screw'em all_. I get that it's just some fucking attitude. You don' have ta pretend anything anymore.  
Especially not that asshole yer always pretendin ta be."

"Screw yah."

"No seriously man. Te real problem here is that that stupid group doesn't get ye. And you let 'em treat ye like shit. Noticed that a while ago."

"Just shut up" Daryl muttered and grabbed his crossbow to check on his arrows.

Connor snickered.

"You can't fuck with me. I know how ye work by now. You just can't take a compliment can ye?"

Daryl eyed Connor angrily and the Irishman laughed.

"Best example right now. The more I talk the madder you get at me. Face it, yer nat the person yer pretending ta be."

"Shut up" Daryl snapped and hit Connor who laughed.

"The more I seem ta like you the more ye beat the shit outta me fer that."

Daryl just growled and shook his head.

"If you really were like that then you wouldn't let me sleep in yer tent. Not to mention the shit you did fer me last night.  
You wouldn' let me call ye Murph and I wouldn't live any more cos you would've let me hang."

"Really, just shut up now, you stupid freak."

"Seriously. I don't get it. Why? You obviously care more 'bout people than yer pretending t'care."

Daryl growled and looked at the barn. He wanted the walkers to break out just so he could shoot someone and watch them eat Connor.  
But of course they wouldn't and of course he wouldn't want them to do that.

"Yah just won't leave me the fuck alone, will yah?" he growled.

Connor grinned and nodded.

"Aye."

Daryl snorted.

"You're just saying stuff like this because I look like your stupid brother."

Connor didn't say anything for a while and just looked at Daryl in surprise. Then he looked at the barn and sighed.

"I still like you as a person. Really. I shit ye not."

"Yeah, 'course."

"Oh fuck you, I mean it. Now go ahead and tell me. Don't be such a pussy. I told you my shit yesterday night."

"Why would I? I ain't some chick that needs t' talk about her feelings the way you do all the time."

"Fuck you! I don't do that either!" Connor said and punched Daryl who kicked his shinbone in return.

The Irishman groaned and rubbed it.

"You asked me t'do it yesterday and now 'm asking you. And yer gonna tell me cos there's no one else who wants ta hear it and cos no one else cares."

Daryl stared at the blonde in surprise and then looked didn't speak for a while. When Connor thought that the topic was done Daryl spoke again.

"Yah just nailed it" he said and Connor looked at him.

"What?"

"Cos no one ever asks or cares. Yah the first one that's stupid enough and that ain't runnin away the moment I snap."

Connor snorted and threw his smoke away.

"Cos they're all just a bunch of sickos or pussies."

"Then why aren't yah running, I mean yer both."

Connor snickered and nudged him. "Fuck you, asshole."

For the first time in a very long time Daryl smiled.  
No matter how hard he tried to deny it, the Irish clown was doing him good with all the bullshit he said.


	17. Cherokee Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** **setting:** ** episode 7 " _Pretty Much Dead Already_ " + the deleted scene ****  
> 

Daryl told Connor that he wanted to go and search for Sophia despite Rick and Shane's orders. The Irishman decided to take a couple of extra magazines with him, which was why he left and went back to their tent. Daryl used the time to get two horses ready, starting with the one he had stolen just two days ago. The hunter went to the tack room to get one of the surprisingly heavy saddles. He threw it on the bench and grunted in pain. The stitches were pulling and his waist burned with pain because of the wound. It hurt even more because Connor had hit it with his knee this morning, and there was a little damp spot again because it leaked. Daryl swallowed hard and needed a moment to gather himself because it hurt like hell. It was then when he heard footsteps and Carol's voice.

"You can't."

He looked at her in surprise and stumbled away from her.

"'m fine" he growled and sorted the headstalls.

He still hated how she was coming after him all the time. As if Connor didn't cause enough trouble.

"Herschel said you need to heal."

"Yeah, I don't care" he murmured and entered the horse's stall.

For a while he could feel Carol eyeing his back. He wanted her to leave. He felt guilty with her around.  
Because he still hadn't managed to find her kid.

"Well I do. Rick's going out later to follow the trail" she tried to reason with him, but the hunter just snorted.

_Where was the stupid Irish freak when he needed him?_

"Yeah well, I ain't gonna sit around and do nothing."

"No, you're gonna go out there and get yourself and your friend hurt even worse."

Daryl rolled his eyes and concentrated on the horse.

"Ain't my friend" he murmured and shook his head.

"We don't know if we're gonna find her, Daryl" he heard Carol say and stopped in his tracks.

"We don't" she repeated once more.

 _Had he just heard her say something like_ _**that**_ ? He turned around and looked at her in dis-belief.

"I don't" she continued and he could see first tears running down her cheeks.

_No._

He couldn't believe this was happening. That even she would give up just like everybody else.

"What?"

"I can't lose you too" she said and it really hit him. She looked down and let her tears run freely. So here it was. The absolute proof that this woman cared about him. First Connor and now Carol. It was too much for him. He approached her and considered comforting her, because he hated to see her cry, but then again, he was just too angry. He couldn't understand how Carol and Connor could be so stupid to actually care about him. _**He**_ who beat the shit out of Connor almost every day. _**He**_ who couldn't find Carol's daughter. He walked past her and tried to calm down but their foolishness made him so angry that he grabbed the saddle and threw it all the way across the stable. A burning sharp pain made him wince as his wound got too strained because of his abrupt movement and the weight of the saddle, but when Carol ran for him and asked him whether he was alright, he had enough.

"Leave me be! Stupid bitch" he spat and stumbled away from her.

He needed space. Space and time to think. So Carol had given up. Even she thought that her daughter wasn't alive. The very girl he'd made his new sense in living. The girl he _**needed**_ to find to prove himself worth his part in this group. The girl he _**needed**_ to find because he hadn't managed to find his own brother. Daryl kept walking and thanked god when Carol wouldn't follow him.

* * *

"Murph?" Connor called out as he entered the stables.

He waited for Daryl to answer his calls, but apart from the soft breathing and pawing of the horses he couldn't hear a thing.

"Murph?" the Irishman called out once more and started walking to search the stables for his friend. All he could find was a saddle on the ground, which had obviously been either thrown or dropped. Connor frowned and knelt down to pick it up. He let out a soft groan when he could feel the pounding of his blood in his aching head, black eye and abused neck. When he looked up he saw that the door to one of the stalls was open. Connor got up to check if there was a horse in it or not. The animal was already wearing a headstall, so he figured that Daryl had been busy saddling it when something had caused him to leave all of the sudden. The Irishman sighed and stroke the horse's head absently.

"Any idea where he went?" he asked and smiled when the animal bumped its head against his hip.

The Irishman freed the horse of its headstall and stroke it once more. Connor enjoyed spending some time with the horses because they were so peaceful and calm and most of all, _alive_. It reminded him of their old life in Ireland. On the sheep farm. With Murph. Caspar and Cheezo, their two horses. He wondered what had happened to them. _Probably turned inta walkers or got eaten._ He sighed and turned his head to search the stables for Daryl once more. He didn't know what had happened, only that he had crossed paths with Carol on his way to the stables.

"Better get going, girl" he murmured and let go of the animal to leave the stable.

He still hated to be there because it made him feel uncomfortable.It reminded him too much of his own foolishness and most of all the absolute terror and pain he'd had to endure in here just a couple of days ago.

Connor returned back to camp and tried to find Carol. She was sitting in the RV again and sewed some trousers, and when he asked her if she knew where Daryl was she told him that the hunter had left camp just a couple of minutes ago, heading somewhere west where the small lake was. The Irishman checked their tent just to make sure, and was surprised to find Daryl's crossbow in it. He knew that the guy never left camp without his beloved weapon, so he figured that he just had to be around the farm somewhere. Connor sighed and got his last three cigarettes from his pea coat, then he made his way to the lake.

* * *

He let out a relieved sigh when he saw Daryl sitting on the landing stage. He still had no idea what had happened and why the hunter would just stop right in his tracks. Hadn't Daryl told him that he wanted to go and look for Sophia? So how come he was just sitting there now? All Connor knew was that his friend was upset. He had to admit that he still didn't -really- know much about Daryl, but since he looked so much like his twin he could read the man nevertheless. Because Murphy had looked like this whenever he had been upset.

Connor approached the other man slowly and watched him carefully. Daryl was moving his bare feet through the water and watched the small waves he was causing. He was obviously lost in thoughts, and now that he thought himself to be alone he looked strangely different. When Daryl was around people he was always watching everyone through narrowed eyes, as if he was going to kill anyone who came too close to him. Now that he thought that there was no one there he almost looked...innocent. It made Connor's heart ache because it gave Daryl the special Murphy vibe he had loved so much. His twin brother had always looked and acted so boyish, so innocent, although he had always been the more aggressive one of the two of them. With Daryl it was just the same.

Sometimes Connor thought that his friend's hair had gradually gotten darker, and right now it looked like it was almost black. Almost like Murphy's hair. It was like he was watching his younger half brood instead of Daryl. He decided to just stand there for a moment and burn the image in his head. For just a second he wanted to fool his brain once more. _This is Murphy, not Daryl_ he thought and imagined what it would be like if it really were his brother. His younger half would've turned around by now because they had always been able sense each other's presence without looking at each other or hearing each other. Murphy would have given him his amused smile by now and asked him why the fuck it had taken him so long to join him and give him one of his fucking well deserved cigarettes.

"Yah gonna stand there forever, yah creep?" Daryl growled and Connor startled a bit.

He had been so lost in thoughts that he had not realized that his friend had noticed him minutes ago.  
Connor put his hands in his pockets and came closer. The hunter wouldn't look at him, he just stared at his feet in the water.

"What te fuck are ye doing here? I thought we was gonna look fer yer girl?"

Daryl snorted.

"She ain't my girl. She's Carol's daughter" he murmured and looked up.

"And looks like Carol ain't interested in her anymore, so there's no point 'n wastin my time any longer on this stupid search."

Connor raised an eyebrow and came to a halt right next to Daryl.

"Stupid search? I remember ye going out there looking fer her everyday, you didn't ever waste a fucking second.

So how come yer just sitting here now?"

The hunter snorted.

"Screw yah."

Connor sighed and got one of his last cigarettes out.

He just looked at the small object and rolled it around between his fingers.

"Cig?"

"Keep yer shit t'yerself" Daryl answered and Connor snorted.

"Wow, hello Mrs sunshine."

The other man didn't bother answering. The Irishman shook his head.

"So? What now?"

Daryl finally turned around and glared at him.

"Why yah asking me? I already told yah, yer annoying the crap outta me, I don't want yah t'follow me everywhere I go! Yer like a fucking dog.  
Why don't go somewhere and cry in a corner or something and.."

He froze and stared at something to Connor's right. The Irishman frowned and turned around. He couldn't see anything but a lot of grass, bushes and some flowers.

"What? Walker?"

Daryl pulled his legs out of the water and got up in a hurry.

"Murph? What the fuck's wrong?"

"Shut up" the hunter growled and made his way past Connor, but not without bumping his shoulder against his chest first.  
The Irishman huffed and put a hand on his aching chest and frowned.

"Eh, watch were yer fucking going!" he complained and followed Daryl.

His friend came to a halt right in front of a bunch of flowers and stared at them.

"What te fuck's yer problem?" Connor asked with a frown on his face.

"Don't yah see it, dumbass?" Daryl responded and confused the other even more.

"No, what te fuck? And I thought I've lost my shit!"

The hunter pointed at the white flowers.

"Cherokee roses!"

"Yeah, so? Yer into bees and flowers now? Got a thing fer dresses and purses, too?"

"Fuck you."

Daryl knelt down to put his boots back on.

"Seriously Murph, what te fuck? I don't get what ye want."

"Just shut up and get back t'the farm t'get the horses ready."

"What?"

"Just do it!" Daryl yelled and started running back to camp.

"The girl ain't lost!"

* * *

"You see it?" Daryl asked as he led Carol back to the lake. He was glad that Connor had done what he had asked him to do. The Irishman had obviously left to get the horses, so he was alone with Carol. And they needed to be alone and have this private moment. For one because he wanted to apologize, but also because he wanted to share his new hope with her.

"See what?" Carol asked in confusion and followed him until they came to a halt right in front of the bushes where he and Connor had been standing just a couple of minutes ago. Daryl pointed at the white roses. Ever since he had seen the flowers he had felt a spark of hope again, the spark that he had needed, and the spark Carol needed now.

"I'll find her" he said and gave her a determined smile. The woman next to him still looked sad, but she tried to smile as well. They both turned their heads again to look at the Cherokee roses. Now that Daryl felt his optimism growing again he also felt guilty. He knew that he had called Carol a stupid bitch and he regretted his choice of words, his behavior in general. He had been angry and disappointed earlier, even a bit offended, but now that he looked at the flowers again he just knew that they were a sign that everything was going to be okay. There was no need to be angry or disappointed anymore, and he wanted her to know that. He bit his lip and eyed Carol, who was still looking at the flowers. Once again she just looked so sad and tired. He moved a bit closer and shifted awkwardly.

"Hey, I'm sorry about what happened earlier."

She looked at him.

"You wanted to look for her" she acknowledged and stared at the flowers again.

"Why?" Carol asked then and Daryl looked her in the eye.

"This whole time I've wanted to ask you."

Many thoughts were going through his head at this moment, because he had many reasons.

_Because I failed t'find my own brother. Because no one went looking for me when I got lost. Because I hate that I've done nothing for this group so far. Because no one deserves t'lose somebody important. Because I know how much it hurts. Because I've seen what it can do t'someone._

 

"Cause I think she's still out there."

Carol kept looking at him and smiled. Daryl turned his head then and looked at the flowers to his feet.

"Truth is, what else I got to do?" he murmured and was quite surprised when he realized the true meaning behind his words.

Until Sophia's disappearance and ever since he had lost Merle he'd had no real purpose. Carol looked at him and he frowned.

"And I think, if yer really looking for something and if yah really want to find something, then you will find it" he went on and got lost in thoughts.

He had seen it happen, because he was part of something like this himself, whether he wanted to or not. Connor had lost his brother and went looking for him, and now he had found him. He who happened to look exactly like this Murphy guy. He shook his head and tried not to think about that again. It still creeped him out. Carol moved next to him and took one of the flowers in her hand. For a while she just stared at the white petals and started smiling.

"We'll find her. We will. I see it" she said and look at him.

Daryl saw the slight change in her eyes. She didn't look so incredibly sad anymore.  
He thought to see a spark of hope and returned the smile, knowing that for maybe the first time in his life he had done someone some good.


	18. Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 7 " _Pretty Much Dead Already_ "

  
  


"Yah done?" Daryl asked when he entered the stables and found Connor standing there with two horses.

The Irishman turned around and nodded.

"Aye" he answered and handed the hunter the reins to his horse.

Daryl wanted to take them, but Connor withdrew with a smirk.

"Yer sure you should be riding a horse so soon after what happened? Maybe ye shouldn't do that.  
Now that yer obviously too stupid t'ride a horse."

Daryl grabbed the rein with a growl and Connor snickered.

"Screw yah, if someone's t'stupid to ride a horse then it's gotta be yah freak. Being from Boston and all that."

They started walking and the two animals followed them out of the stable.

"Fuck you, I grew up on a fucking horse back, ye bet 'm way better at this than you, asshole."

Daryl snorted and got on his horse once they were outside.

"Yah wish."

* * *

They were deep inside the woods by now. Connor had wanted to be in charge and plan their route, simply because he wanted to head for a small town and find cigarettes, but Daryl wouldn't have any of that. The Irishman was still surprised about that. Back in the old days Murphy had been the one giving in and asking him for guidance. Now it was Daryl who was bossing him around. It was strangely new, but in a good way. Sometimes Connor had gotten tired of all his planning. With Daryl up front he had no idea where they were actually going, and since he had nothing else to do but look out for Sophia and walkers he soon got bored.

"Can I ask ye something Murph?" he asked after a while and urged his horse to walk next to Daryl's.

"What?" Daryl murmured but didn't look at him.

He was still eyeing their surroundings.

"Why are ye so keen on finding that girl?"

Daryl snorted and looked at Connor.

"Cos she's lost."

"Aye but why would _you_ look fer te kid if she ain't yers?"

"Why would yah? Could ask yah the same."

"I'm doing it cos it's important to you and cos I owe te group."

He turned his head to keep an eye on the surroundings to their left.

"Besides, back in Boston me and Murph were looking after a kid fer a bit. But then we lost her. So I think I owe her as well."

Daryl didn't say anything for a while and just looked at his friend. Connor let out a sigh.

"Did ye have any kids before shit went down?"

Daryl snorted again.

"Do I look like it?"

Connor frowned and look at him.

"What's that got ta do with how ye look?"

"No I didn't. Will yah shut yer hole now? We got a little girl t'look for and there's walkers all around us.  
Didn't take yah with me for no chitchat, dumbass" Daryl growled and glared at him.

"Alright bitchy."

Connor searched his trouser pocket for his smokes. Now there were only two left. He sighed and took one. Christ. They really needed to get into town soon. Right now he didn't fear dying because of some walkers, he just needed to think about the possible withdrawal symptoms and it sent a shiver down his spine. _Sure as hell would be way worse than a walker biting yah_ he thought and shook his head.

"Did yah?" Daryl asked after a while and Connor looked up with a frown.

"Did I what?"

"Have any kids, dumbass."

Connor smirked because he was surprised Daryl kept the conversation up. Then he shook his head.

"Do I look like it?" he imitated Daryl's accent again which made the other growl and Connor laugh.

"Nah really. Didn't have any kids. No time, no money..besides, how's that sapposed ta work. The police were after us fer fuckin murder.  
That ain't no picnic."

"Just thought, the way yer with the Grimes kid."

Connor snickered.

"Aye. Just because I didn' have any it don't mean I didn't want ta have any."

Daryl just nodded and urged his horse to go faster. Connor followed him up a hill and sighed.  
They had been out here for a couple of hours now, and Sophia was nowhere to be seen.

"Ye really think yer going ta find that girl?" the Irishman asked after a while and Daryl nodded with an angry frown.

"'Course."

Connor snickered quietly.

"Ye just gotta believe" he murmured and shook his head with a smile.

"Whatcha prattling about?"

"Nothing."

* * *

They rode on for what felt like hours until the reached the nearest town.They had encountered maybe eight walkers on their way, and the closer they got to the settlement the more walkers were roaming through the woods.

"I think we should head back. Looks like she ain't here. 's too far north anyway" Daryl murmured and turned his horse around.

Connor could see a street and some houses just a couple of hundred feet ahead.

The Irishman remained where he was and looked at the houses.

"Yah comin or what?" Daryl growled.

"I just...gotta make a run into town" Connor answered and turned around to look at Daryl.

The hunter made his horse turn so they were facing each other. He frowned.

"What are yah, stupid? Said she ain't here. There's no trails and too many walkers"

The Irishman rolled his eyes and headed for the street.

"Don't be such a fuckin pussy, it'll be a quick stroll, that's all."

"I said it ain't gonna happen!" Daryl yelled but Connor wouldn't listen to him.

"Leprechaun!"

"Fuck you" the Irishman murmured and didn't stop.

"Fine, whatever, 'm gonna go back, don't care, I hope yah get eaten!" the hunter yelled after him and headed in the other direction.

He rode on for a couple of minutes and expected Connor to follow him. That was how the Irishman worked after all, and he knew him all to well by now. There was no way he would ever leave his side. Daryl turned around after a while just to make sure. He could see that Connor had almost reached the street and wasn't following at all. "Oh come on, yah prick" he growled and made his horse stop. He waited for a bit but the Irishman just wouldn't stop. He was heading for town all on his own. Daryl wanted to leave. It was stupid to enter a walker infested town with no reason, and he hated how foolish and stupid the Irishman was. He was putting them both in danger with that, maybe even the whole group. They just needed to come across one of those herds.

The hunter clicked his tongue and the horse started walking again, but after a couple of feet Daryl turned around once more. Connor had disappeared behind some of the houses. He didn't want to care, and he wasn't supposed to care. He had never wanted the Irishman with them. But what if he returned to camp without Connor? He was sure that they would give him shit. Especially Rick and Shane. Because everyone liked the Irishman, and whenever he got hurt they were always judging _him_. It was his fault after all, he had threatened and punched Connor more than once. Daryl growled and made his horse turn around.  
"Fucking idiot" he growled and went after him.

* * *

Connor had successfully located a small shop. They still made him feel uncomfortable after everything that had happened back in Boston. He didn't really want to get mobbed in a store ever again, but right now his urge to get new cigarettes dominated everything. He searched the whole place for anything useful and was quite frustrated that his favorite brand wasn't there anymore. The whole apocalyptic flair had taught him not to be picky though, and he knew that not being able to smoke was way worse than smoking something that tasted like shit. He found a plastic bag behind the counter and started throwing various packs in it, and after doing some thinking he decided to take them all with him. Back in the old days he would have felt sorry for stealing, but the times where he'd had money to put on the counter were over. He didn't even have any money any more and he knew that not taking stuff would just get him killed. He checked the store for anything else and cheered when he found some whiskey. Connor froze when he heard slow unsteady footsteps behind him and reached for his belt where he had put his knife.

"Don't even think 'bout it, asshole" he murmured and turned around, ready to strike the walker down. He let out a surprised shriek when the undead was closer than he had thought and grabbed his wrist in midair. The Irishman growled and started kicking the walker's leg but he was so heavy and sturdy that he just pushed Connor back against the shelves. The undead tried to bite the Irishman's throat and arms, but Connor fought back with a loud growl. Somehow he managed to grab the walker by his neck to push him further away, but lost his knife during the process. Connor cursed and tried kicking and shoving, but the undead was too strong. He was pretty sure that it wouldn't take the walker long to overpower him, now that he could hardly breathe and wasn't exactly in good shape either.

Connor cursed himself for going alone just because of some stupid cigarettes. When he lost grip and the walker leaned further in the Irishman already prepared himself for the worst, but a second later he heard a loud zap. Something hit the walker's head hard and exited through his left eye. Connor turned his head away and blinked when he felt a wave of blood rain down on him. The Irishman let out a surprised gasp when the walker went limb against him and pressed him further against the shelves. When Connor looked at him again he faced the sharp tip of an arrow which stuck out of the dead walker's eye socket. He pulled a face and pushed him away.

"Jesus" Connor murmured and wiped his face.

When he looked up he saw Daryl standing there with his crossbow still pointed at him. The Irishman raised an eyebrow.

"So, whose head were yer aiming at?"

Daryl snorted and threw the crossbow over his shoulder again.

"What do yah think? Yers of course."

Connor knelt down to get his knife and plastic bag.

"Wow, shitty shooting. You only _nearly_ killed me."

Daryl came closer and grabbed his bag to see what was in it.

He shook his head and snorted.

"Serves yah right. Putting everyone in danger cos of some stupid cigarettes."

Connor snorted and turned around to search the rest of the shop.  
He lit a cigarette on his way back, simply because he needed something to calm him down after the heart attack he'd just had.  
Daryl kept watch close to the door and growled.

"Move yah ass, dumbass. Ain't got all day."

Connor snorted.

"Alright, bitchy" he murmured and looked out of the window on the other side.

"Look at those motherfuckers over there" he murmured and pointed at a small herd of walkers which was making its way down the road on the other side.

"Geeks following us?" Daryl asked and came closer.

"Just look" Connor answered and waited for his friend to come closer.

They both watched the small herd stumbling closer. It looked so grotesque. They had no brain at all, no control over their bodies, and yet they seemed so...determined. Determined to get what they wanted, the only thing that mattered: their flesh.

"Looks like these fuckers are smarter than we thought. Ain't those the ones we met back at the creek?"

Daryl shrugged.

"All they got is dumb brains and teeth. We got this" Connor heard him say and turned his head to see what the hunter meant.

Daryl was patting his crossbow and the Irishman placed a hand on his knife.

"Aye."

"Come on, let's go" Daryl said and they left the shop.

* * *

When they returned to camp they were both eyed head to toe, and especially Rick seemed to be mad at them. He had told them to stay after all, but Daryl and Connor just took it with a snort. The policeman seemed overly worried because of the way the Irishman looked. His clothes and face were dirty and bloody because of the walker attack, and Rick took it as just another reminder of how fragile his group was. Daryl had been the first to really get hurt, and the way the policeman talked about it it sounded almost like he thought that it was the same with Connor now. He reminded them to respect the group's rules and went away, and the Irishman and the hunter sat down on to of the chairs close to the campfire. Connor leaned back and shook his head. "Jesus" he murmured and Daryl grabbed something to eat.

"Well he sure is right 'bout one thing."

"And what would that be?" Connor asked and frowned.

"Yah look like shit."

The Irishman snorted and leaned back again.

"Screw ye."

They just sat there for a while and watched as the group returned to camp as well.  
Connor rubbed his eyes tiredly and looked at Daryl, who had started to clean his crossbow.

"Eh Murph."

His friend growled.

"What is it now, yah freak."

"Thanks."

The hunter looked up and saw Connor sitting next to him, with a whiskey bottle in his hand.  
He was offering him the booze, and after staring at it for a moment Daryl took it with a snort.

"Yeah, yah better share this shit, whiny asshole."

Both men sat there in silence as Daryl cleaned his crossbow and arrows for the millionth time. Pretty soon half the group returned and joined them. Shane and Glenn would make fun of them every once in a while, because they were so quiet and calm although they were sitting right next to each other. The group had been used to them fighting all the time. Even Daryl and Connor were surprised that they were getting along this time. When Shane made fun of them once more they just murmured a pissed "Screw you."


	19. Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter. I know it's a bit out of character, a bit too whiny, a bit too bla but whatever. It's the way I write and interpret the characters.
> 
>  **setting:** episode 7 " _Pretty Much Dead Already_ "

When Connor opened his eyes tiredly, he knew something was different. He was facing the thin side of the tent and could feel Daryl right next to him. That was nothing new, but when he shifted a bit and woke up properly he just knew that there was something...

"So et just takes a stupid redneck ta replace me this easily?" he heard someone say.

Connor sat up abruptly and turned around. He stared at the figure which was sitting next to right, right on the spot where Daryl was supposed to be. But there he was, grinning at him and chuckling. Connor looked at his twin in shock.

"Murph?"

"Hey Conn."

Murphy just smiled at him and leaned back. Even now Connor could see how much he and Daryl looked a like. Like they were a perfect copy of each other. But there he was, Murphy, and when he placed a hand on Connor's shoulder he could see it. _Aequitas._ Written on his hand. _The virgin Mary,_ tattooed on his neck.

"See yer doing great brother" Murphy said and pointed at his black eye and bruised neck.

"Fuck ye."

"Suicide's a sin, right?"

"Well, I ain't dead yet, 'm I. Looks like it didn't work."

Connor took a deep breath and just stared at his twin. He did not dare blinking because he was too afraid of him disappearing.

"I miss you so fuckin much" he said and swallowed hard.

"Aye,ye better do. I'd haunt yer ass if ye didn't."

"Aren't yer haunting me ass right now?" Connor murmured and his brother snorted.

He wouldn't say anything, they just stared at each other for a while. Then Murphy reached out to caress his brother's bruised neck. Connor sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, surprised at the touch. His whole body ached, because he had missed the feeling of these hands on his skin. He placed his hand on his brother's hand and squeezed it hard.

"Ye look like shite" Murphy stated and Connor snorted.

"Af course I do."

"I kinda welcome that stupid redneck ta replace me, and we've been inta many fights ourselves, but that fucker needs ta stop beatin you _that_ much.  
Yer black and blue Con. You shouldn't let him do that any more."

Connor snorted.

"He ain't replacing you. How can anyone ever replace ye?"

"He's got my face."

"But he's nat you."

"But he's doin ye good" Murphy murmured.

Connor sniffed and looked at his brother.

"Fuck that. _You're_ my brother. Yer more than that, ye're my twin brother. Yer part af me. You're my soul mate fer Christ's fuckin sakes."

"Yeah, bout that. Af course I was. But I'm fuckin dead Con."

"No, you're not" the older said and shook his head stubbornly.

"I got bit, I died, I turned and you freed me" Murphy reminded him, but Connor wouldn't listen.

"Don't fuckin talk about that."

"You need ta fucking understand Con."

"Fuck ye, I don't wanna."

"Yah think killing yerself or talking t'yerself and imagining shit's gonna do ye good?"

Murphy rested his forehead on his twin brother's and took a deep breath.  
Connor placed his hand on Murphy's shoulder and patted and stroke it shakily.

" I just want ye t'come back ta me, 's all" he demanded and Murphy chuckled.

"You know that's impossible."

"Jesus Christ came back" Connor murmured.

"Aye, but I ain't him."

"I fuckin need ye."

"No, you don't. Nat any more" his younger half said and shook his head.

"Af course. It's always you and me Murph, don't ye get that?"

"Yer job's not done yet, Connor. I did mine. I became a saint. Next ta ya. We saved people and made evil men pay. That's why I was fuckin born.  
I served my purpose. I died in peace. I fulfilled my destiny."

"My fuckin destiny's nothing different. We're twins. We were born fer the same purpose" Connor said and frowned.

Murphy shook his head and smirked.

"Ye know we're fraternal."

"Fuck that, we're still one and te same."

"You meeting that fuckin redneck, him looking like me, that's a sign Con."

"Yeah, a sign af the devil. Ta mock me and torture me. It's fuckin hell, Murph."

Murphy hugged his brother then and Connor wrapped his arms around him as well. He couldn't believe that he was holding a firm body.  
He buried his face in his brother's shoulder and inhaled deeply. There it was, the scent that was so typically Murphy. Smoke and soap.

"I wanna be with you. I wanna join ye Murphy" Connor murmured after a while and Murphy stroke his back even more.

"You can't" he answered quietly and his blonde brother shook his head.

"But I can."

"I don't want ye ta kill yerself brother. Ye promised. Suicide's a sin. Don't be such a pussy. That ain't ye."

"Fuck ye."

"Promise me again, Connor."

"I can't."

"You can, yah fucker."

"I won't."

"Right. Talking ta you's no use then. Might as well just fuckin leave" Murphy said and tried to get up.

"Don't!" Connor wrapped his arms desperately around his brother.

"You need ta let go."

"No , I fuckin won't. Never again. Nat again. You can't fuckin do that ta me all over again.."

He felt how Murphy started stroking his back again.

"Oh Jesus fuckin Christ, ye've got no idea how much it freakin hurts Murph."

"I do, Con. Cos I felt te same the last few seconds af my life. Didn't wanna lose you, too."

"Why would god do that ta me? What did I do wrong? Why would he punish us like that?  
Was it all wrong in te end, what we did?" Connor asked and looked at his brother questioningly.

"No 't wasn't" Murphy said matter of factly.

"Then why is he turning his back on me? "

"He's nat."

"He doesn't want me any more. He lets me whither, commit sins..."

"He loves ye Con. Just as much as I did. An he has his reasons. He works in mysterious ways, aye? There's still a path fer you. It's nat over yet."

"I can't go on. Nat without ye."

"But I'm still with ye."

"No, there's just someone who looks like ye" the blonde twin said and sighed angrily.

"I don' mean like that. I mean I'm still with ye" Murphy responded and let go of Connor, who looked at him in confusion.

Then Murphy placed his hand on his chest.

"In there. With ye. I'll always be in there."

"No."

Murphy frowned.

"Cos I'm fuckin empty in there. You ripped it out and took it with ye" Connor said and just stared at his twin with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Then I'm giving it back ta ye. I gave it back ta ye. The moment you saw that redneck."

"Fuckin stop et. Now ye sound like a stupid chick flick."

Murphy smirked. "Yer the one crying like a fuckin girl."

"Fuck you, I ain't" Connor retorted and wiped his face.

"Murph?"

"Aye?"

"It's just a fucking dream, right? Yer nat a ghost or some shit like that?" Murphy chuckled but didn't answer.

"This is like some shitty movie. Swayze all over" Connor murmured and took a deep breath.

"You've been watchin too much tv again, haven't ye. You and yer stupid fucking films."

The younger chuckled.

"Haven't seen one in years" Connor answered and smiled.

"That's cos there's no electricity in zombieland, smartass."

"Fuck ye" the older muttered but hugged Murphy even more tightly.

The other twin sighed after a while. He shifted and tried to get up. Connor looked at him and frowned.

"Where are ye going?"

"Nowhere."

"Don't fuckin leave me again."

"You should sleep Con. You look like shit" Murphy said and smiled.

"Fuck ye, I won't close my eyes just so ye can magically fuckin disappear again" Connor growled and glared at his twin.

Murphy sighed and lay down. He just looked at his brother and waited for him to lie down as well.  
It took Connor a while, but in the end he gave in and placed himself right next to his twin.

"You'll be the death af me, stupid" Murphy said and wouldn't stop looking at him. Connor's face fell.

"Turns out that's true."

Murphy took his brother's head then and pulled him to his chest. He wrapped one arm and leg around him and ruffled his hair forcefully. Connor groaned and fought back with a giggle. After a moment of scuffling he calmed down and rested his head against his twin's chest. He was surprised to hear a heartbeat.

"Murph?" he murmured after a while and stroke his twin's arm.

"Aye Con?"

"How much did it hurt? Did ye feel te bullet?"

He looked up to see Murphy's face. The dark-haired MacManus just stared back at his brother with his tired but somehow still so childish blue eyes.

"Af course nat stupid."

"So it's just te bite."

"It hurt like crazy, but that's nothing compared ta the other pain."

"What kinda pain?"

"The pain I caused you. Knowing I'd leave ye alone? Fuckin seein ya like that."

"Aye."

Connor rested his head against his chest again and sighed. They lay there perfectly tangled, the way they were used to since the day they had bodies in their mother's womb. Connor fought sleep for hours. He just stared at Murphy's rising and falling chest and tattoos. He inhaled his scent and stroke and touched him all the way he could.

"Night Con" Murphy said then and Connor yawned.

"Nah."

But he was so tired that he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.

"I fuckin love ye more than anything in te world, brother" he murmured and finally closed them.

"I know. Same here. Love ye too Con."

And with that Connor fell asleep.

* * *

When Connor woke up the next day, Murphy was gone. Some noise and movement had woken him up, and when he finally opened his eyes he saw what had woken him up. Daryl was fighting his tight grip.

"Let go off me, yah prick!" he complained and Connor let go in surprise.

Daryl moved away from him and growled.

"Jesus, what are yah, fucking girl?" he growled and sorted his clothes.

Connor rubbed his eyes and frowned. At some point he must've confused Daryl with Murphy, and now that he thought about it he realized that everything had just been a dream. He tried his hardest to keep it together and was glad when Daryl was too busy complaining and shouting at the world to notice how heartbroken he was all over again. It was like he could still smell the smoke and soap all over his body, like everything was screaming Murphy at him. He could still see him sitting there, grinning at him like he had just thought of something extra funny and outrageous. Daryl was still muttering something, and when he turned his back on the Irishman after a while Connor silently wept all over again. He did not dare making any noise, simply because he knew how much Daryl hated that, but the tears kept coming nevertheless. Murphy was gone. _Again_.

"Yah alright?" Daryl asked after a while and Connor snickered miserably. Of course he had heard it.

"Why, ye gonna punch me black and blue again if I say aye?" the Irishman murmured and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

"Ah screw yah. I didn't mean like that but fine, fuck yah" Daryl growled and shifted.

"Ye know fer someone who keeps pretending that he can't stand me, yer askin me that a lot."

Daryl snorted.

"Screw yah."

Connor got lost in thoughts for a moment. He thought about everything he had seen, everything he had dreamt about.

"Daryl?" he murmured after a couple of minutes and heard the hunter growl.

"What is it now, yah annoying freak."

"Ye believe everyone's got a purpose in life?"

Daryl snorted.

"What kind of question is that?"

"Forget et."

They didn't say anything for a while until Daryl sighed.

"If there was, what could possibly be mine. I've got none."

"Me neither."

Daryl snorted and turned around to face Connor.

"You? I thought yah calling was killing the baddies, savin the world from evil and all that shit."

"Aye, but that's not te matter any more. So _why_ am I still alive. I'm no use any more."

"Fuck you, is that another one of yah suicidal bullshit fits? Stop that shit, will yah."

"It's nat. I ain't thinking about killing meself."

"Then what is it?"

Connor didn't say anything because he didn't know whether to tell Daryl or not. When Daryl didn't get an answer he grunted angrily.

"I told yah t' fuckin tell me instead of letting it eat yah all up again and yer stupid crying and suicidal shit's annoying the.."

"I think I saw Murph tonight" Connor interrupted him and Daryl shut up.

"I know that sounds fuckin crazy and bullshit, but I'm nat pretending this time. Maybe 't was just a dream but it was so fuckin real."

Daryl didn't say anything. He remembered his Merle hallucinations from the day he got injured and chewed on his lower lip.

"What happened?" he asked quietly and Connor turned around in surprise.

"You believe me?"

Daryl looked away.

"The day I fell off that stupid cliff and climbed back up..I saw Merle. Maybe just an illusion because of the blood loss stuff going on but.."

He shrugged and Connor eyed him.

"Right. What did he say?"

"Same shit as ever. Mocked me. Because of yah and so on."

"Right."

"Did he say anything t'yah?" Daryl asked after a while and Connor snorted.

"Same as ever. He wouldn't allow me ta kill myself. Said I've still got things ta do. A purpose. Told me he didn't feel anything any more when I shot him, that he was already dead. I mean i could fuckin touch him, hear his heartbeat,smell him, hold him an shit. It was so fuckin real. I mean at first I thought it was you but when he talked..that was his voice and accent, his tattoos an clothes.'T was him."

He swallowed and then sighed.

"Guess my mind's just fucking with me. Just a dream I sappose. Still. Fuckin real one."

Daryl just looked at him for a while.

"But did it help yah in the end? What he said?"

Connor snorted.

"No. He made me promise I'm never going ta try ta kill myself and he said tha we should stop beating the shit outta each other though."

Daryl snorted.

"It's simple. Don't say or do anything that encourages me t' punch yah for it."

Connor smirked.

"I kinda want that, though. There's a reason I hold back and let ye win all te time."

Daryl groaned. "Yeah, I know yah want **me** t' kill yah so it's not suicide, but I know when to stop."

"It's not even that."

"Then what is it?"

"Aequitas."

Daryl frowned.

"What did yah call me?"

The Irishman rolled his eyes and looked at Daryl then.

"Justice. You look like him. So you kinda represent him fer me. I let yah beat me black and blue so I feel the same amount af pain I caused him when he got bit because I let him down that day. He told me it hurt like crazy and didn't fucking do anything about that. So it's up t'you to act as hammer af justice and cancel it out, so to say."

This made Daryl angry.

"Ever thought about asking me how _I_ feel about that shit, asshole?"

"You look like ye kinda enjoy it, lettin yer steam off and everything."

"Christ, dammit. You're fucking nuts. Really, yah lost it now" Daryl growled and turned around.

Connor didn't say anything and just stared at the ceiling. The hunter moved and turned his head to glare at him once more.

"And yer calling me an egoistic fucker. The truth is: you are! You don't care about a single fuckin thing except for yah stupid dead brother and your whiny feelings about that. Yah fuckin pussy."

"I'm nat a pussy!" Connor growled and kicked Daryl angrily. The hunter got up and kicked back. Soon they were fighting and beating each other all over again. For a while they just fought and kicked until Connor ended up on top of Daryl and pinned him down, with nothing but a terrifying angry grimace on his face. He looked like a lunatic like that, with blue eyes gleaming and blonde hair pointing everywhere. Somehow he had managed to grab his gun and pointed it right at Daryl's forehead. When he remembered the scenario he let go of the gun in shock. Then he noticed the blood.

"Yer bleeding" he said when he saw the big damp spot on Daryl's shirt right where he'd impaled himself on his arrow.

"Yeah thanks for hitting me there, yah asshole."

"Fuck, I'm sorry."

He grabbed Daryl's shirt and lifted it up to check on his injury. Daryl automatically tensed and tried to slap his hands away.  
Connor frowned at sight of the wound. He found a piece of cloth and started to clean it up. Once he was done he climbed off Daryl and fell down next to him.

"We're going ta kill each other" he murmured and sighed.

Daryl snorted.

"Try me."

"I grabbed te fuckin gun."

"So?"

"I could've pulled the fuckin trigger."

"You didn't, did yah?"

Connor didn't say anything then and turned around to sleep on.


	20. Clarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe I'm already uploading the chapter where they're finding Sophia. 2x07. NOOOOOOO. 6 more episodes to write and I'm done. Nooooooo. Already wrote the last chapter, made me cry like a baby. Nooo I don't want to post that last chapter. But looks like I have to! :D Soon! Nooo! Anyho, Connor doesn't have to suffer for once. Ha,ha,ha,ha :D
> 
>  **setting:** episode 7 " _Pretty Much Dead Already_ "

* * *

  


* * *

 

Daryl was the first to wake up the next morning, but when he shifted he could feel Connor moving behind him as well. The Irishman let go of him and turned on his back to sleep on. Daryl turned around as well and saw Connor still lying next to him. The Irishman didn't look so angry or sad anymore, Daryl even dared to think that his friend looked almost peaceful right now. The hunter sat up and got changed. It was the dawn of another day and he decided to get started on their search for Sophia right away. He put a new shirt and a pair of socks on, and once he was done he just looked at Connor, completely lost in thoughts. The Irishman suddenly opened his eyes and blinked a few times. His left eye was still black and blue, but it wasn't so swollen anymore. Connor raised an eyebrow when he saw that Daryl was looking at him.

"Ye going ta punch me again?" Daryl snorted and got up.

"Herschel should take a look at yer eye" he said and got out of the tent.

Connor sat up and snorted.

"Fuck et. I've had worse."

He got changed quickly and followed Daryl a second later. He shoved the hunter when he caught up with him.

"Could give ye one in return" he said and chuckled.

Daryl snorted.

"Try and yah won't see the rest of it."

* * *

They had slept pretty long because of last night, so when they joined the group, everyone was already busy doing something else. They had spared them some food though, so they sat down for a moment to eat and gather strength for another busy day. Carol was there and gave them food, and when she wouldn't stop hanging around with them Daryl got angry all over again. He knew that she obviously thought that they were friends now, just because he had shown her the rose. He hated it. For one because he'd never had any female friends and also because he didn't want Connor to know. The Irishman was watching them the whole time, and when Carol finally left he couldn't help but snort.

"Aren't ye two adorable" he muttered and snickered.

Daryl glared at his food and growled.

"Screw yah."

"Maybe I should sleep somewhere else tanight, so ye two can have a little private session.." Connor went on and laughed.

Daryl glared at him. He hated the Irishman for embarrassing him like that, but at the same time he couldn't help but be surprised to see Connor laugh. The hunter just frowned.

"Are yah tryin t' get me laid now?"

The Irishman chuckled.

"Oh come on, don't be like that. How long' s it been?"

Daryl snorted.

"Fuck you, I ain't tellin yah."

"Why not? 's nothing t'be ashamed of these days. Fer me it's been years. Only got some action in my early 20s.  
Kinda hard getting through fuckin puberty with all that bible shit."

Daryl pulled a face.

"Ew, disgusting. Too much information."

Connor laughed.

"Come on, we're men, that's what we talk about."

"There's walkers in that barn, the freaking apocalypse , a missing girl and yah wanna talk bout all the chicks you fucked?"

"It wasn't like it were hundreds..'t weren't even 10."

"Shut up, will yah."

The Irishman smirked.

"Yer so much like Murph. Prude an shit. He hated it when I made fun af him because I got more chicks than 'im."

"I ain't prude."

Connor chuckled and put his plate away.

"Fine then yer just nat gonna tell me. Yer boring as fuck."

"There's nothing much t' tell, yah freak" Daryl murmured and wouldn't look at him.

The Irishman stopped laughing and look at the hunter in surprise.

"Ye mean like.."

"Yah know me good enough by now t'get the picture."

"Jesus. Really?"

"Fuck you."

"Well you go ta heaven, good boy" Connor snickered and patted Daryl's shoulder.

"Screw yah" Daryl grunted and punched Connor's upper arm.

"Fuck you, but I really don't get it" the Irishman murmured.

"What?"

"I mean yer a decent bloke. Yer lookin fer missing kids and bring flowers fer their mothers and shit, yer a real proper dude with muscles and shit, don't get it."

Daryl frowned and looked at Connor for a while. The hunter shook his head and snorted.

"Leave me the fuck be. Could yah be any more gay? Good lord" he growled and turned around when he saw Shane coming down the road with the rifle bag.

"Just trying ta help ye" Connor said and shrugged.

He turned his head and looked at the policeman as well.

"I don't need yer fuckin help" Daryl growled and got up to ask Shane what was going on.

"What's all this?" he asked and pointed at the guns. Connor got up as well and frowned.

"You with me, guys?" Shane asked and threw their guns at them. Connor caught his Berettas and cursed.

"Eh, careful!" he complained and checked his weapons to make sure they were okay.

Shane kept walking and approached the rest of the group which had gathered in front of the farmhouse.  
Connor and Daryl looked at each other with a frown and followed the policeman.

"Time to grow up, you already got yours?" he asked Andrea and handed Glenn a gun.

"Where's Dale?" Andrea asked and Shane went over to the next member of the group.

"He's on his way."

"I thought we couldn't carry" T-Dog said and looked just as confused as the others.

"We can and we have to."

"Why? What te fuck's up?" Connor asked.

Shane stopped walking and looked at them all.

"Look, it was one thing sitting around here picking daisies when we thought this place was supposed to be safe. But now we know it ain't" he said and nodded at the barn.

Everyone turned their head and a few nodded.

"I've been waiting for Rick t'figure it out, but another night and those things are still in there. Can you shoot?" Shane asked Maggie and she got angry.

"Can you stop?"

"What the fuck's wrong with this guy, man?" Connor asked and snorted.

He checked his magazines and shook his head.

Daryl checked his shotgun and shrugged.

"Got a point."

"You do this, you hand out these guns, my dad will make you leave tonight" Maggie tried to reason with the policeman, but Shane ignored her.

"What is this?" Lori asked as she came to join them.

"We ain't going anywhere, okay?" Rick's friend said and got his own gun.

"Now look, Herschel, he's just gotta understand. Okay? He...Well, he's gonna have to. Now we need to find Sophia. Am I right?"

He knelt down in front of Carl and offered him a gun.

"Damn right" Connor could hear Daryl say and frowned even more. He didn't know what was going on.

_A minute ago everything had been quiet and peaceful, so why was Shane acting like this all of a sudden?_

"I don't know, man" Connor murmured and put his Berettas in his leg holsters.

Then he folded his arms and shook his head when he saw how Shane placed a gun in Carl's hand.

"You take it, Carl, and you keep your mother safe. You do whatever it takes, you know how. Go on, take the gun and do it."

"Now, hold te fuck up buddy, I didn't teach the kid how t'shoot a gun just so you can talk him into some bullshit" Connor said and stepped forward, but Lori was already on her way. She placed herself in front of her son and glared at Shane.

"Rick said no guns. This is not your call, this is not your decision to make."

"Ohhh shit" T-Dog interrupted them and everyone turned around to see what he was talking about.

They could see five people making there way to the barn on the other side of the field. They narrowed their eyes and gasped when they realized that it were Rick, Herschel and Jimmy who were guiding snarling and growling walkers with sticks.

"What the fuck?!" Connor asked and widened his eyes.

"Murph, ye fucking see that?"

Daryl rolled his eyes.

"Of course, I ain't blind, dumbass."

Shane started running and after a moment of hesitation everybody followed.

"Shane wait!" Glenn and Lori shouted after him but the policeman wouldn't listen.

"What the hell are you doing?" Shane yelled at Rick as soon as they reached the barn.

Connor and Daryl positioned themselves right next to the walkers and pointed their guns at their heads just to make sure that nobody would get hurt. The Irishman couldn't believe that this was happening. _What sort of people had taken him in?_

"Shane, just back off!" Rick said but Shane ignored him.

"Why do you people have guns?" Herschel asked.

Rick and Shane kept arguing. Connor and Daryl stood right by the walkers and wouldn't move or put their guns down.

"Are you kidding me?" Shane spat.

"You see? You see what they're holding on to?!"

"I see who I'm holding onto!" Herschel yelled and Connor snorted.

"Yer holding onto fucking monsters!" he said to him since he was standing right next to the old man.

"Just fucking look at 'em!"

Herschel wouldn't listen to him. The Irishman saw that Rick could hardly hold his walker back anymore.

"Shane just let us do this and then we can talk!" the policeman tried to reason with his friend, but Shane exploded.

"What is there to talk about, Rick? These things ain't sick!They're not people! They're dead! And they can't feel nothing because you know what they do? They kill! These things right here!"Shane yelled and pointed at the walkers who kept struggling.

"They're the things that killed Amy!" he went on and looked at Andrea.

She looked surprised, but nodded.

"They killed Otis! Murphy!" he went and looked at Connor who startled at the mention of his brother's name.

For a moment he felt like he was petrified.

"Don't lose yer shit now" he heard Daryl growl and shook his head.

_No, because hearing Murphy's name just made him angry._

"They're gonna kill us all if you don't take care of this!"

"Shane, shut up!" Rick spat and tried to keep hold of the walker.

"Hey Herschel man, let me ask you something. Tell me this, could a living breathing person walk away from this?"

The policeman asked and grabbed his gun. He pulled the trigger three times and hit the female walker Herschel was holding.  
It groaned but kept walking and struggling.

"Stop it!" Rick yelled.

"I hit it in the chest! Could someone who's alive just take that, why is it still comin?"

Shane didn't stop. He shot the walker again and Connor backed off in surprise. He'd almost been hit himself because the bullet's went straight through the body.

"Fuckin hell, watch it, man!"

"Why is it still coming?"

And he shot her again.

"That's its heart, its lungs! Why is it still coming?"

"Shane, enough!" Rick demanded and his friend walked up to the creature.

"Yeah, alright man, that is enough."

He placed his gun on her forehead, pulled the trigger and shot her in the head. She fell to the ground and Herschel lost grip of the stick he'd been holding her with. He looked at the body and the women and children covered their mouths in shock. Connor just stared at the dead walker for a minute as the head shot rang a bell. Then, as he stared at the pile of dead rotten flesh, he couldn't help but smile. Another one of the things that killed his brother was dead. Shane was right. They all deserved to die. He saw Daryl eyeing him and looked at him in surprise. Then he came to join his friend and helped him with the remaining walker.

"Enough, risking our lives for a little girl who's gone!" Shane spat and Daryl and Carol looked at him in surprise.

"Enough living next to a barn full of things that're trying to kill us! Enough! Rick it ain't like it was before!"

Rick looked at him but seemed to be too shocked and clueless. He didn't say anything.

"If you want to survive, you've got to fight for it! And I'm talking about fighting right here! Right now!"

With that Shane walked up to the barn and grabbed a hatchet. Everyone tried to run after him and screamed. Rick was losing it as he kept begging Herschel to take the remaining walker. But Herschel just sat there in shock. When he wouldn't respond to Rick it was Connor who reacted. He shot the walker right in the head just as Shane managed to open the barn.

"Do not do this brother! Please! This is not the way! Please!" Rick kept begging but the barn doors swung open.

All hell broke loose as the walkers started coming out. Connor stood right next to Daryl when they started shooting them. As soon as he shot the first walker in the head just like the professional he'd been for the past 10 years, he zoned out completely. The anger was eating him up. He hated those things. He hated himself. For everything they'd done to Murph. For everything _he'd_ done to him. And he shot one walker after another. He saw Daryl standing right beside him and for one moment it was almost like back in the old days. Him and Murph. With guns. Taking out dangerous, evil men. And he got so caught up with it that he ended up shooting most of the walkers on his own. Daryl, Andrea, Glenn and T-Dog stopped when they saw that no more walkers were coming out of the barn.

Daryl watched how Connor took them out. One by one, all on his own with nothing but his two silly handguns. And written on his left index finger, pulling the trigger over and over again, he could see it. _Veritas_. He just watched him for a moment. The expression on his face. He actually looked _scary_ like that. Because he wasn't showing any emotions. No fear. No mercy. He shot everything that came out of the barn. In cold blood. For the first time Daryl really believed that this man had killed over 20 people. The massacre ended after just a couple of minutes. The children and women were in shock, the shooters out of breath. It was quiet for a moment and Daryl just eyed Connor who looked back and frowned. Then he put his guns away and looked back at the barn. Suddenly they heard groans. When another walker stepped out of the barn everyone's face fell. It was a little blonde kid wearing a blue shirt. There was a chunk of flesh missing from her shoulder. And as she approached them they could hear Carol crying.

"No! Sophia!"

Daryl threw his gun away when Carol came running. He grabbed her to pin her down and hold her back. When Connor saw how both Carol and the hunter reacted he understood who the little girl was. He just looked at her sadly. After a long moment of silence and Sophia coming closer and getting angry, Rick grabbed his gun and approached her. When he pulled the trigger and shot her in the head, everybody startled.


	21. Outburst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! LOL I'm so sorry. I keep torturing Connor way too much. I'm a horrible writer. Really. But meh. It's the Walking Dead. It's the end of the world. People ought to suffer :D Shit's about to go down from now on. Dooowwwn doooownnn dooooown.
> 
>  **setting:** episode 8 " _Nebraska_ "

It had been hours since they'd found Sophia. Daryl and Carol had left soon after the shooting had stopped. Connor considered going after Daryl but when Shane, Andrea and T-Dog asked him to help them with the bodies he gave in. They spent quite some time moving several corpses. Only some of them were meant to be buried whereas the other half was put on the back of Shane's truck and driven away. Connor was sitting next to Shane in the car when the latter suddenly spoke.

"Sorry I brought your brother up" he said and Connor shrugged.

"Ye were right. Those people needed ta understand. Including Rick."

"So you think I was right?"

_Was Shane actually doubting his deeds?_

Connor looked at him in surprise. Most of the time he quite hated the cop, simply because he was such a hyped up asshole and kept treating Daryl like trash, but right now he saw that his tough side was falling apart. The Irishman nodded and grabbed a smoke.

"Aye. I shot most of te fuckers, didn't I? I mean it's shit fer the girl an Carol but ye were being realistic. I mean fuck, I told Daryl she was dead. Weeks ago. I called et."

"We need more men like you" Shane muttered and Connor snorted.

"Hey. Can I ask ye something?" the Irishman muttered after a while and looked out of the window. Shane nodded.

"Sure buddy. Spit it out."

Connor sighed and turned his head to look at the man next to him.

"Is it true? That ye sacrificed that one guy?"

Shane looked at him and snorted.

"What, you, too?"

The blonde just looked at him and the policeman looked away again and shook his head.

"I just did what had to be done, man. I had to save Carl's life."

Connor nodded.

"Aye. That's true. But still, you put anyone in danger again, like today...don't think I'll handle shit like Herschel and Rick."

Shane frowned and looked at him.

"Dude, are you actually threatening me?" he asked and snorted.

The other shook his head.

"No. 'm just warning you. That's all."

* * *

They buried the dead in silence. As Connor dug a hole he eyed Daryl nervously. His friend pulled a face with every move and placed his hand on his injured hip from time to time. When Connor saw blood running down his leg, he let go of his shovel, wiped the sweat off his face and approached him.

"Don't you think ye should stop now? Yer pullin the stitches. Yer bleeding."

Daryl didn't look up and kept digging.

"Yer fuckin hurtin yerself. Let me finish et fer you."

He grabbed the shovel but Daryl wouldn't let go. He glared at Connor.

"I dig the hole."

"Murph, I think.."

"My name is _not_ Murphy, okay?" Daryl spat and Connor looked at him in surprise.

"Right, sorry, Daryl, it's just that.."

"I said I dig the hole. Now fuck off or I beat the shit outta yah with that shovel."

Connor eyed the shovel and then Daryl. He knew his friend meant it. He sighed and nodded.

"Right."

He walked back to his hole and continued digging. Every time he heard Daryl groaning his body ached as well. Daryl insisted on burying Sophia himself. Carol wouldn't come out of the RV to join them, so Daryl buried her alone. When every body was buried, Connor prayed for all of them in silence. Especially for the girl.

* * *

Once Daryl was done, he walked away and Connor followed him. He did not dare speaking after the shovel threat but he didn't want to leave him alone either.  
Daryl walked right past the camp until they were walking down the path that lead towards the highway. When Connor kept following him he turned around.

"Fuck off" he growled and Connor looked at him.

He shook his head.

"No. I'm nat leaving ye after that."

"I said fuck off and leave me be!"

He shoved Connor who stumbled backwards but shook his head.

"Daryl, I know ye spent weeks looking fer that girl but I told you before. Besides, she ain't yer kid and.. it wasn't yer fault after tried yer best.  
Sometimes shit like this just happens. It happened ta me as well. I tried ta save her and...Just..nothing we can do about it."

Suddenly Daryl punched Connor in the face. Connor gasped in surprise and almost fell.

He took a deep breath and then looked at Daryl again. His mouth was bloody but he didn't fight back. Daryl just stared him down.

"Fuck off I said" he growled again and Connor shook his head once more.

"No."

He earned another punch in the guts for that, but after a moment he pulled himself together and kept looking at Daryl.

"Go ahead if ye want. Fuckin beat the shit outta me if ye must."

Daryl glared at him and growled. He turned around and tried to walk away from him. But Connor kept following.  
After a couple of minutes Daryl turned around again.

"I'm fuckin warnin yah, back off or yah won't see the rest of it."

"I know how you work ye stupid prick..." Connor said but was interrupted when Daryl punched him again.

The more often he did it the more it hurt the Irishman. But even that wouldn't make him leave.

"I know why yer fuckin doing this.." he went on and Daryl got even more furious.

_Why wasn't Connor just fighting back? He needed a fight now. Because he was so angry._

"Now that the girl's lost ye wanna switch off yer stupid brain again.." Connor groaned when Daryl hit him again.

_He was so_ _**angry** _ _because they'd found Sophia_ _**dead** _ _.  
Because he had promised he'd return her alive and save and had failed, just like he hadn't been able to find his own brother._

" Ye don't wanna care because caring fucking hurts..."

Another punch. Daryl just wanted him to stop.

"I fuckin know ye just wanna run away cos ye think yer nat fuckin worth it."

"Shut up!" Daryl spat and hit Connor so hard that he fell to the ground.

When the Irishman just laughed he got even more furious, so he kept punching him.

"And now yer takin it out on me because I'm the only one that's in the way.  
Cos I'm the only one that keeps ye here and that keeps you from being the uncaring bastard ye wanna be. And you fucking know it."

Those words felt like a slap to Daryl's face. The fact that this stupid freak was speaking the truth and knew him so well made him so angry, so furious. He didn't want to hear the truth. But of course. Connor would be the one saying it. Because that stupid ass had it tattooed on his hand.

_Goldyface said it, yah weak, yah need someone, yah can' run off on yer own baby brother. Yer a loser. Couldn' find th'little brat, couldn' find me, can't run off, can't survive on yah own. Loser. I told yah. Even the little faggot's laughin at yah._

Merle kept mocking him inside his head. And it was all it took to make Daryl snap. He wrapped his hands around Connors neck and squeezed hard.

"I said shut up!" he yelled.

In a matter of seconds his mind just stopped working. He was so furious at the world, at Merle, at Sophia, at Connor who wouldn't shut up. He hated how everyone was assuming they knew him, how he worked, what was going on in his mind. The truth was that they had absolutely no idea. The hunter just wanted them all to shut up. Especially the Irishman, who was struggling underneath him and fighting his hands, but he wouldn't let go. Couldn't let go. "Daryl!" he heard someone shout and looked up in surprise. Rick, Shane and Andrea came running for them. When he heard them calling his name once more he realized what he was doing and why Connor was grabbing his wrists like that. He was actually _choking_ him. The hunter let go of his friend in shock and widened his eyes. Shane and Rick grabbed Daryl by his shoulders and dragged him away from Connor who was gasping for air and started coughing heavily. Andrea knelt down next to him and took a look at his injuries.

"What is wrong with you?" Rick spat.

Daryl just looked at Connor who was still struggling and coughing.  
His face was bloody and beaten up, and when he curled himself up and groaned in pain the hunter realized what he'd been doing to him."Andrea?" Shane shouted and she looked up.

"Looks like nothing's broken."

"Is he okay?" Daryl asked then. He felt horrible all of a sudden.

Andrea and Shane helped him up and tried to get him away from Daryl.

"It's alright, just a scratch, really. It's fuckin ok. 't was my fault, I was provokin him" he heard Connor murmur.

When Daryl wanted to follow them Rick held him back.

"Daryl!"

"I didn't mean to punch him..I just.. Christ, I just snapped, is he alright?"

"We're all devastated and stressed but that's not a reason to try to kill someone!"

"I didn't try to kill him! He's the only goddamn friend I have! Really, I just snapped..the stuff with Sophia and.."

Rick let go off him.

"Now listen up. This group is falling _apart_ , we can't have people behaving like you do all the time.  
We accepted you to the group because you're a decent hunter, because you put food on our table but.."

"I said I didn't mean to hurt him!" Daryl spat.

"We've warned you. Now stay away from him! I won't tolerate you around him any more if you can't control your temper! You would've killed him, whether you wanted to or not!"

"I said yah ain't bossing me around no more Grimes!"

"And I said stay away from him!" Rick spat.

Daryl just looked at Rick and then kicked the dirt.

"Whatever, I don't need any of yah anyway!T'hell with all of yah!" he growled and walked away.

* * *

When they wanted Herschel to check on Connor's injuries they were informed that he'd run off into town. Rick and Glenn left to find him as his daughter had gone into shock as well. Andrea and Shane brought Connor inside the RV and sat him in the back. They gave him some wet towels to wash the blood off his face and cool the bruises. When they left him alone after a couple of minutes, he let out a loud groan. _Christ_ , his whole body ached. Daryl had done a pretty decent job with his beating. But in the end it was his fault. He could've walked away. He hadn't done it because he knew that this was what his friend wanted. He just knew the redneck too well by now. It was so typically Daryl. But no matter how hard he tried to isolate himself, he just wouldn't let him slip away. Connor coughed and groaned again. _So much pain._ He remembered Daryl's hands around his neck. He remembered his fists in his face. He remembered not being able to breathe again. He remembered staring into those blue eyes. _Murph,_ he'd thought, d _o it._ _ **Please**_ _do it. I'm begging you_.

And he had welcomed the nothingness. But once he'd heard Shane and Rick he'd known that he wasn't going to die. He'd known that Daryl wouldn't kill him then. He tasted blood in his mouth. His whole body burned with _pain._ But that didn't really matter. He wondered why he was still alive. He'd been **so** close.

"Fuck. Look at ye" he heard someone say and turned his head.

Standing there in the hallway was his twin brother.

"Murph" he croaked and his twin smiled.

"Heya Con."

He sat down next to him and placed his hand on his brother's shoulder who winced in pain.

"Didn't I tell ye ta stop tha shit? Yer better than him. Stronger. Ye were even stronger than me. You could always win if ye want ta, brother."

Connor just shook his head and looked at his brother.

"Con. Ye need ta stop."

"Deserve et."

"No ye don't. It wasn' yer fuckin fault I died. And even if it were, I'd never do this ta ye. How can ye believe I'd want this?"

" _Aequitas_ " Connor said and took his brother's tattooed hand.

"That's fer evil and corrupt people."

"Aye."

"Yer not one of them! Stop that shit. Yer the best fuckin person I've ever known."

"You mean I was."

He squeezed his brother's hand and then winced because it hurt.

"You need ta stop thinking ye deserve punishment."

"But I do."

"Shut up."

"Why, Murph?"

"You mean why yer still alive?"

Connor smiled when his brother just knew what he meant. Then he nodded.

"Because ye still got things ta do. People ta meet. People ta help. Things ta happen."

"Please allow me ta die."

"Never."

"Fuck you."

Murphy smirked.

"See it as a final task. A final job. And yer reward's me."

"How do I know when it's done?"

"You know when ye don't expect it."

"Fuck ye."

Murphy squeezed his hand then and patted his shoulder gently.

"I'm proud af ye, little brother."

Connor smirked tiredly.

"Yer the little one."

"We both know who's the older one."

"Aye. Me."

"Then fuckin act like it Con."

"Killing yerself takes balls."

"Living through shit and life even more."

Connor sighed.

"Then come back ta me so we can live through it tagether."

"Ye know I can't. I'm dead."

For a while they just looked at each other. Murphy just looked sad.

"Ye look fuckin terrible."

Connor snickered.

"Ye know I'm the prettier one."

Murphy laughed.

"Fuck you."

Suddenly they heard voices outside and Murphy squeezed his hand again.

"Time ta go."

"Please stay."

"Can't."

"Af course ye can."

"Love ye Connor."

"Love ye too Murph."

With that Murphy got up and before Connor managed to say anything he was gone.  
Connor's eyes snapped open when he could hear how someone kept knocking on the door.

"Come in" he murmured and sat up.

He couldn't remember when he'd fallen asleep. Maybe he'd passed out. Lori entered the RV and he smiled at her.

"Came here ta tell me how horrible I look again?"

She smiled a little but then looked worried.

"How are you?"

"Been better. But that's alright. Had worse."

She nodded and leaned against the kitchen counter.

When Connor saw how she kept scratching her neck nervously he knew something was wrong.

"What's the matter?"

"It's just...god, I shouldn't even be here."

"It's alright. Tell me what's buggin ye. I don' bite."

"It's about Rick.."

"Aye?"

"He left hours ago. Headed for the town to get Herschel. But they're not back yet."

"So?"

"I'm worried. Maybe they need help. And I would go after them but I've got to look after Carl.."

She swallowed and looked down.

"I asked Daryl to go and help them but he refused. He told me to go myself but..." Connor sighed.

"Af course he's all bitchy now" he murmured and then looked up.

"You want me ta look fer yer husband?"

She nodded. He looked at her for a moment. She looked so worried and scared that he just couldn't say no. He nodded.

"Aye. Af course. I'm going ta find yer husband."


	22. Car Crash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chap! I keep thinking: JUST HUG EACH OTHER ALREADY. Lol :DI rewrote this scene because I wanted it to be a Connor scene and not a Lori scene. Since the scene was a bit pointless anyway. So.
> 
>  **setting:** episodes 8 " _Nebraska_ " and 9 " _Triggerfinger_ "

* * *

  


* * *

 

Connor found Daryl by the old ruin. It was even worse.

Not only was he sitting all by himself there, he had also taken the tent and the motorbike with him.

"What te fuck's up with ye?" Connor asked once he was close enough.

Daryl looked up and snorted. Then he concentrated on the sticks he was cutting to a new bunch of arrows.

"Where did ye put my stuff?"

"By the camp" Daryl murmured and didn't look at him anymore.

"So what, now yer throwing me out? If someone's gotta be mad, it's gotta be me, don't ye think?"

Daryl didn't answer and Connor sighed.

"Don't fuckin do that."

"What?"

"Don't fuckin isolate yerself and run away."

Daryl got up then and eyed Connor.

"What the hell is wrong with _you_? I just beat the shit outta ya a couple of hours ago and yah keep runnin after me like a fuckin dog.  
Don't yah get it, I don't want yah with me!"

"Yer such a fuckin pussy! The girl's fuckin dead, so what? We're still alive, the others are still alive.  
People are dying like flies these days, get over it!"

"Says the prick who's still not over his stupid brother's death after months!"

"Aye because that's fuckin different! Ye hardly knew te girl. You didn' care about her before, so what's the fuckin point in caring about her now?"

"Screw you."

"Why did ye fuckin tell Lori to go into town on her own? She's a fuckin woman, she's pregnant, are ye stupid?"

"So what, I don't care what that stupid bitch thinks or wants. None of my business, not my stupid problem. I'm done looking for people."

Connor looked at Daryl in surprise.

_He wouldn't have thought that the death of one girl he hardly knew could make Daryl change so much again.  
He was just like when they'd met. Even worse._

"She asked me ta go. I think she's got a point. It's a fuckin town. There must be hundreds of them things. Maybe Rick needs help."

"So what. It's not like he'd come for me if I was there."

Connor sighed.

"I'm going. I need back-up. Would ye come with me? Do et fer me at least?"

Daryl snorted.

"For _you_?"

Connor narrowed his eyes.

"What the fuck's that sapposed to mean?"

Daryl sat down again and grabbed another stick.

"You're still not gettin it? I don't give a crap about yah! I beat the shit outta yah just a couple of hours ago and yer _still_ not gettin it. I work best when I'm on my own, I don't need anyone and I certainly don't need _you_. I mean, let's face it. You're the one that needs me t'survive, not the other way round, I couldn't care less if you're there or not. And I've made my point more than once. It's about time yah get that inside yer thick Irish head."

"If you don't care if I'm there or not, then why did ye cut the rope I tried ta hang myself with?"

"Because some walker could've bit yah there and I didn't want yah to become a walker.  
I didn't want yah t' be a danger to the group. If you'd taken a gun like a man I would've left you to rot there on the ground. Couldn't care less."

Connor stared at Daryl then. Most of the time he'd thought, no he'd _hoped,_ that there was an other side to Daryl. A better side. The way he'd been with Carol. The freaking _flower._ For the first time since they'd met Connor wasn't sure whether Daryl really meant what he'd said or not. Whether he'd really given up getting _better_ or not.

"Ye really think so?"

Daryl snorted.

"Wouldn't say it if I didn' mean it."

And Connor knew that this man could never replace his brother. Because Murphy would never say something like this to him.

"Okay, if that's what you want. Screw ye then" was all Connor said.

Then he turned around and walked away. Daryl watched how he left. From the moment Connor turned his back on him he regretted what he'd just said. But then again, he just wouldn't take it back. His pride wouldn't have that. He hadn't meant to say those things. In the end he'd just said it to hurt Connor, to make him go away because he wanted to be alone. Of course he cared if the stupid Irish freak was alive or not. He'd saved his life more than once. And even he couldn't deny that Connor had done him good. But right now he just didn't want to be anywhere close to him. Because he didn't want to talk to anyone. Because he was so angry and disappointed. And because he was afraid of lashing out and hurting Connor once more. The reason why he'd said those things was because he _cared_. Because he wanted him to be _safe_. And safe meant being anywhere but close to _him_.

* * *

Connor had stolen one of the cars. He was driving down the road when he remembered what Daryl had said to him. He still didn't know if he'd meant it or if it had been one of his stupid attempts to get rid of _everyone._ The Irishman was quite surprised that his words had actually hurt him. And this time not just because Daryl looked like Murphy but also because it had been _Daryl_ who'd said those things. Maybe he'd been wrong all the time. Maybe he'd just imagined that there was some sort of friendship happening between them. Maybe Daryl really was the asshole Connor'd always thought he was just pretending to be.

But if he was, how was he supposed to cope then? It was like losing another brother all over again. Because if Daryl really wanted to throw him out and run away from him he'd be all alone again. He didn't really have anyone in that group except for Daryl. He'd said it before. Everyone had their friends and family. The Grimes family and Shane. Andrea and Dale. T-Dog and Carol. Glenn and Maggie. Him and...? He wasn't sure if he could be just Connor. It had been Connor and Murphy all the time. Connor and Murphy. Connor and Daryl. _Just Connor?_ He wasn't sure if he could do that. He'd been a _twin_ brother. He was supposed to be with someone. He had promised Murphy not to kill himself. Which meant he had to deal with it somehow.

The Irishman grabbed the map to check where he was going. He'd been so lost in thoughts that he hadn't really paid any attention on where he was actually going. The town. It had to be here somewhere. When he looked up again he gasped in surprise. Standing there, right on the road, was a walker. Just a few meters away. And he was driving towards it at full speed.

* * *

 _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._ He could hear the steady rhythm. _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._ He could hear glass breaking.  
The first thing Connor noticed was that his leg freaking _hurt_. It took him a moment to process what had happened. The road. The map. The walker. **BAM.**

His eyes snapped open when he heard groans and moans. He could smell the stench of rotting flesh and dried blinker kept flashing and making that noise. Connor found himself stuck inside the car that lay on its side and there was a walker trying to break through the broken windshield.

"Oh fer fuck's sake" he muttered and tried to grab his gun.

It was quite hard to get since he was completely stuck in the driver seat like that, with his leg being stuck between the steering wheel and seat. Even worse, there was a piece of glass from the windshield that had cut through his jeans and right into his thigh. He couldn't tell how deep it was, all he knew was that it _hurt_. The walker tried to get inside the car. When he'd almost managed to get one hand inside, Connor finally found his gun and placed it on the walkers forehead.

"Time ta go back ta hell ye fucker."

He pulled the trigger and shot the walker dead. Connor took a deep breath and then took a look around. He prayed to god that there weren't any more walkers around. He wondered where his luck had gone. _How had he managed to crash a car in the middle of nowhere during the freaking apocalypse?_ The Irishman grabbed his leg and tried to pull it out. He groaned in pain when it wouldn't move and the glass cut even deeper into his thigh. _Oh Jesus._ Now he'd even managed to get stuck. He hadn't told anyone that he'd left on his own. The only ones who knew were Lori and Daryl. The very person who had told him that he didn't care whether he was alive or not. Lori, who was pregnant and too scared to go on her own. _Oh great._ Connor kept trying to get out of the car but with his leg stuck like that he wasn't going anywhere. Soon he heard more groans coming from the outside. He wondered how many of them were out there. He wondered how long it would take them until they figured out how to get inside. He had six bullets left.

"Gimme a fuckin break" he murmured and checked his magazine just to make sure.

Six bullets.

_Is this the fuckin situation ye meant Murph? When I don't expect it? Well fuck ye very much, I'm nat ready ta get torn ta shreds and ye made me promise tha I won' kill myself. How's that sapposed ta fuckin work?_

Another walker tried to get through the windshield. He could hear the glass breaking. Part of him wondered how long it would last until it broke completely.

_Well look at me, I'm yer fuckin happy meal just waiting to get eaten. 's not like I can run away fram ye._

He tried to take aim but it was hard to do so since the walker kept moving. Connor pulled the trigger and missed the head.  
He had managed to shot her cheek off but that didn't stop her.

Five bullets left.

He tried to get his leg out again. This time he pulled really hard but in this position he just ended up forcing the glass even more inside his leg.  
He yelped in pain and tried to shoot the walker again. Her head was already inside but he missed it again.

Four bullets left.

They could smell the blood. It made them even more rapid. He saw another walker coming. _I take it back God. I don' wanna die.  
_ He took a deep breath and took aim again. He hit her right between the eyes this time. Another walker down.

Three bullets left.

Two of them were still outside. He could hear how the windshield cracked once more.  
Connor aimed at one of them and hit his head. And yet another walker down.

Two bullets left.

He was going to make it. At least for now. He tried to get his leg out once more and failed. Christ, he was _stuck_. The definition of stuck. When he was just about to take aim once more the windshield broke and the walker fell inside. Connor screamed in surprise and tried to move his gun up to his head. Just when he placed it on its temple, he saw another one coming. And another one just a couple of meters away. He only had two bullets left. He pulled the trigger and the walker on top of him twitched as the bullet went straight through his brains. But the other two were already coming. Connor's breathing sped up as he watched them coming closer. He couldn't move because his leg was still stuck and the walker he had just shot was lying on top of him.

Just one bullet.

He considered his options. Even if he managed to shoot the next walker dead it wouldn't do him any good.  
Because there was still another one coming and he'd be out of ammo. He had more ammo inside his bag and trouser pocket but couldn't reach it.There was always the other option.

One bullet left.

For himself.

 _I'm fuckin sorry Murph_ he thought as he watched the two walkers coming closer.  
 _I just don' wanna get eaten. I don' wanna die in tha much pain. I don' wanna die that slow._

With a loud **zap!** one of the walkers fell to the ground. A few seconds later the second one followed. Connor gasped in surprise. When he lifted his head he saw that there were two arrows stuck in their skulls. He could hear footsteps and grabbed his gun even tighter. Then he saw someone standing right in front of him.

"How the fuck did yah manage t' crash a car in the middle of fuckin nowhere?" Daryl asked and Connor let out a relieved sigh.


	23. Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Bit too long this time but I didn't want to cut it in two. So whatever. I should rename the fic and call it " _50 ways to torture Connor MacManus_ " LOL. I'm so sorry :D So this is more like a Daryl POV at first. I tell you, this friendship is growing on me!
> 
>  **setting:** episode 9 " _Triggerfinger_ "

It was dark outside. Connor hadn't come back since he'd told him to go to hell. The truth was that he was worried. Connor had left hours ago. Rick and Glenn hadn't come back either. Daryl was sitting by his own campfire and watched the flames. He still wasn't over the fact that he hadn't been able to find Sophia. And now she was dead. Suddenly he heard someone come running towards him. When he looked up he saw that it was Carol. He sighed. He didn't want to see her. He couldn't look her in the eye because he felt so ashamed of his failure. Her daughter was dead because _he_ hadn't been able to find her.

"We can't find Connor. And the others aren't back yet either" Carol said and came to a halt right in front of him.

He shrugged and threw another stick at the campfire.

"Yeah that dumb Irish fuck must' ve gone looking for them."

„What?" she asked and looked at him in surprise.

"Yeah, he asked me to come with him. But I'm done playing the dead brother. He ain't my problem."

Carol eyed him for a moment. Then she frowned.

"And you didn't say anything?"

 _Why should he? It wasn't like any of those people had cared about Connor that much. They'd only ever cared when_ _ **he**_ _had managed to hurt him.  
_ _ **He**_ _had been the one that had cared and talked to Connor most of the time. So why was she asking him something like that now?_

He didn't answer and concentrated on the fire. Daryl still wouldn't look at her, so she turned around to leave.  
He was already giving in to his thoughts again when she came back.

"Don't do this. Please. I already lost my girl."

So now she was bringing up Sophia. It was too much for him. He got up and glared at her. He was getting angry all over again.

"You know what's my problem? Neither."

With that he left because he could feel how his fists clenched and because he didn't want to hurt her.  
He just wanted to be alone, why wouldn't Carol and Connor get that?

* * *

About an hour later Carol came back.  
He saw her standing by the geek ear necklace and the way she just kept coming and wouldn't leave him alone made him angry all over again.

"What are you doing?" he snapped and she turned around in surprise.

Carol looked at him for a while.

"Keeping an eye on you" she answered and he snorted.

"Aren't you a peach."

He kept walking around because he could hardly control his annoyance.

"I'm not gonna let you pull away. You've earned your place" she went on and he rolled his eyes.

Now she was doing it again. It annoyed the crap out of him how she kept playing psychologist.

How she kept treating him like he was someone special.

"If you spent half of your time minding your daughter's business instead of sticking your nose into everybody elses, she'd still be alive!" he snapped and she looked hurt.

She swallowed and then nodded.

"Go ahead."

This made Daryl frown.

"Go ahead and what? You know what...just go! I don't want you here!"

He expected her to leave because something like that had always worked on others. Because it had made Connor leave. She just stood there so he went on.

"You're a real piece of work lady! What are you gonna do, make this stuff about my daddy or some crap?"

Oh crap, now he had mentioned his father in front of her. There was no way he'd talk to _her_ about that. He didn't even know why he'd told the stupid Irishman. He tried to change the subject and get her into leaving, so he did the same he'd always done with Connor. Hit her right where it hurt. Her dead family.

"You're afraid. You're afraid cos you're all alone. You've got no husband, no daughter, you don't know what to do with yourself."

Carol wouldn't give in. She wouldn't give him the fight he wanted. She wouldn't break the way he wanted her to break.  
And because she was so strong it made Daryl snap even more.

"And you ain't my problem! Neither is that stupid leprechaun! " he snapped and she startled when he started yelling.

"Connor's not my brother!"

And he knew why _that_ made him angry. _Because he's the brother I've always wanted to have instead of Merle. Because I want to be_ _ **his**_ _brother._

"Sophia wasn't mine!"

For the first time he realized why it hurt so much. _Because Sophia wasn't_ _ **mine**_ _. Because I've got no family and wanted the two of you to be my family._

"All you had to do was keeping an eye on her!"

And he got so furious that he clenched his fist and was just about to punch her in the face. Because that's what he'd always done when Connor was around. He heard her gasp in surprise and then she turned her head away. But Carol didn't look scared. She was expecting him to beat her. She was ready for it. She didn't fear it. She winced just the way he'd always done when his father was about to beat him. Daryl was so surprised and so shocked because of this that he stopped and looked at her. He had always expected her to be a weak housewife. A woman who couldn't defend herself. But Christ. The way she stood there in front of him. Expecting, fearless...it made him realize how strong Carol really was. How _brave_ she was. "Yeah" she whispered and swallowed. Carol stayed strong and did not cry. It made Daryl realize something else.

 _All you had to do was keeping an eye on her...and she'd still be alive! All_ _ **you**_ _have to do is keeping an eye on_ _ **him**_ _so he_ _ **stays**_ _alive._

Connor. He'd gone all on his own. He'd asked him to come with him.

" _It's a fuckin town. There must be hundreds of them things."_

And there he was, sitting all by himself, without Connor, without anyone and it was so dark and dangerous outside that he wanted to mentally slap himself for not going with his friend.

_"Don't kill yahself you stupid freak."_

"Try ta stop me."

"I will. Cos you ain't dying as long as I'm around."

 _ **You**_ _ain't dying as long as_ _ **I'm**_ _around._

He knew what he had to do. Without saying another word to Carol he turned around to get his crossbow.

* * *

Soon after Daryl had left the farm he had to realize that Connor hadn't even made it to town. Because after about 15 minutes of driving down the road he saw the car. Crashed. Lying on the side. It made his heart miss a beat. Because he didn't know what had happened.

_Had Connor done it himself? Was this another one of his suicide attempts?_

He imagined him driving down the road at full speed and then hitting a tree. He imagined how his neck snapped. Oh Christ Connor was dead and it was all his fault. He parked the car a few meters away from Connor's when he saw walkers by the wreck.

_What if walkers had bitten him to death? What if they'd chewed on his guts and he hadn't been able to run away? What if Connor was a walker himself?_

He didn't know if he could shoot him. For the first time in his life, after all the walkers he'd killed, he wasn't sure whether he could shoot _Connor_ in the head. He didn't have to think the scenario through when he heard gunshots coming from the car. He got out of his car and grabbed his crossbow. So Connor was still alive. Inside that car. With walkers surrounding it. He saw three of them. When Daryl approached the car he could hear a loud bang and glass shattering. After a second Connor was screaming inside the car and he heard another gunshot.

_Oh god no. Now a walker must've got him._

Daryl ran for the car and shot the two remaining walkers in the head. He thanked god he'd already made a couple of new arrows. He turned around to check whether there were any other walkers. They were alone. Daryl took a deep breath and walked around the car. He wasn't sure what was waiting inside. He saw Connor lying in there with a walker on top of him. He had a laceration on his head and aimed the gun at Daryl who frowned.

"How the fuck did yah manage t' crash a car in the middle of fuckin nowhere?" he asked and heard Connor sigh.

"Daryl?"

The hunter nodded and grabbed the dead walker by his shoulders to get him off Connor.

"Stupid walker ran right inta my car" he murmured and grunted when the dead weight was lifted off him.

"Jesus fuckin Christ, I've never been more relieved ta see yer stupid ugly face."

Daryl snorted.

"Yah want me t' shoot yah right here an now?"

"I was just about ta do it myself."

And the way Connor looked at Daryl he knew he meant it. The hunter shook his head and offered Connor a hand.

"Told yah yer ain't dying as long as I'm around. _"_

Connor grabbed his hand with a happy grin but when Daryl pulled he groaned in pain.

"Ah fuck, right, I forgot ta tell ye. I'm fuckin stuck."

"You're what?"

Daryl looked at him in surprise and when he looked down on Connor he saw his bloody leg and the piece of glass in his thigh.

"Christ, not only are yah t'stupid to drive a car but you also manage to get yer stupid leg stuck like that?"

Connor snorted.

"Aye. I tried ta pull it out but it's fuckin stuck. I need help."

They heard moans behind them and Daryl turned around in surprise. There was another pair of walkers heading towards them. Connor's breathing sped up again.

"I'm outta bullets Daryl."

The hunter looked at Connor and was surprised when he saw that the Irishman looked scared.

"So fuckin _please_ tell me ye care if I'm there or not. I don' wanna get eaten."

Daryl snorted and grabbed his crossbow.

"I'm here now, aren't I?"

And when Daryl grabbed another arrow and aimed at the walkers he realized another thing. He might have lost Sophia and Merle. Maybe those tasks were over. Because he knew he wouldn't find them any more. But there was one thing he was absolutely sure of. He had a new task. A new purpose in life. And that was making sure that this whiny leprechaun was save. He shot the two walkers in the head and turned around again but couldn't see any new ones.

"We need t' get yah outta here. It's not safe. Not with all the blood."

Daryl tried to get Connor out of the car again. No matter how hard he tried, his stupid leg wouldn't move. Although the Irishman tried his best not to make any noise, the more Daryl pulled the more it hurt because the piece of glass kept cutting him. After a minute of trying he ended up screaming in pain and Daryl stopped immediately.

"It's no fuckin use. That's te stuff ye need the fuckin firefighters for" Connor panted.

"How the fuck am I supposed to get some stupid firefighters now? Dial their number? It's the freakin apocalypse dumbass!"

"I fuckin know it's the fuckin apocalypse, I got te memo!"

Daryl pulled again and Connor yelped in pain. Both of them were out of breath already. The hunter eyed his friend angrily and wiped the sweat off his face.

"Fuckin typical! What is it with yah and all the stupid accidents and injuries? Aren't yah Irish freaks supposed t' be lucky?"

"Fuck you! I was til I met ye stupid ass! It's yer fuckin fault after all! If ye hadn't been tha fuckin princess and come with me when I asked ye ta,  
I wouldn' have crashed te car in te first place!"

Daryl stared at Connor in surprise. He knew Connor was saying those things because he was in pain but in the end he knew that he was _right._

"Shut up. I'm gonna get yah outta here" he said and tried to move the steering wheel.

Connor took a deep breath and grabbed his friend by the shoulder.

"Okay, that's it. I see two options here."

"We're going to get yah out and we're going t'get yah out!"

"Don' be stupid. Either ye take my gun and shoot me in the head.."

"No fuckin way!"

"Or you gimme something ta bite and pull me out. With all the strength ye can gather."

"Are you mental? It could cut yer fuckin leg off!"

"Aye."

Daryl looked at him in surprise and shook his head.

"How are yah supposed t' survive with one fuckin leg? I ain't gonna babysit a cripple!"

"There's no other way an ye fuckin know it! Now fuckin pull yerself tagether!"

Both men stared at each other for a moment and then Daryl turned around. He was going to hurt Connor. _Again_.

It was all his fault he was stuck.

"It's alright. I'm going ta live. I've had _so_ much worse Daryl."

Daryl searched for a stick and snorted.

"Like what?"

He heard Connor sigh.

"Got tortured once. By some mobsters. Murph and I wanted ta kill Yakavetta. The guy we shot in te courtroom later. He got us before. Tortured us in his cellar fer hours. Shot our friend before our eyes. An te worst kind a pain af all. I saw Murphy die. Twice. So ain't no stupid leg gonna hurt _me._ "

Daryl turned around and eyed Connor. After a moment they came to a silent agreement. He was going to pull him out.

He found a thick stick in the bushes and walked back to Connor. They both took a deep breath and when Connor nodded Daryl put the stick in his mouth. It was kind of hard finding the right position to pull but in the end he placed himself somewhat behind Connor, inside the car. He wrapped his arms around his waist and could feel how the Irishman grabbed his hair."Ready?" Daryl asked and after a moment Connor nodded. When he started to pull, Connor's screams where muffled by the stick. It was like a flashback for Connor. _10 years ago. After their father had shot them. The bullet in his leg. Murphy behind him, pulling the piece of cloth he buried his teeth in. Rocco with the iron in his hand. He'd been scared of the iron. The heat. The pain. But Murphy was behind him. He was holding on to him. And when the iron touched his flesh, he felt the incredible pain and smelt the burnt flesh as he buried his fingers in Murphy's hair. The pain. And they were going through it together. Halving it. Making it better._ This was just like that. The more Daryl pulled the more Connor buried his fingers in his hair. He could hear his jeans tearing and the glass ripping and cutting through his flesh.

After a moment everything was over. Both he and Daryl fell back as he was released. Connor groaned in pain and when he moved he yelped. He felt the tears coming because it _hurt_. When he saw all the blood he felt like he could pass out any minute. The Irishman coughed and groaned, then he could feel how Daryl pulled him out of the car. For a moment he just stared at the night sky. He couldn't remember the last time he'd looked up at the sky like that. The stars were so beautiful. They were there all the time and they hardly ever saw them. Because their eyes were indifferent to beauty now. Because all there was left was blood and pain and misery.

Daryl hit his cheek then and Connor blinked.

"Don't yah dare dying now."

Connor snickered tiredly and shook his head.

"Ain't gonna make it that easy fer ye."

"Can yah sit up?"

Connor squeezed his eyes shut for a moment because his leg hurt so much, but then he nodded and tried to sit up.

"Thank you fer getting me out"he gasped and Daryl snorted.

He wrapped an arm around Connor's waist and lifted him up. The Irishman leaned against him for a moment when he felt dizzy because of the blood loss.

"Heya, there's no closin yer eyes now. Yah can sleep all yah want when we're back home."

Connor smirked.

"Just fuckin exhausted."

"I know."

Daryl led Connor to his car.

"Ye need t'get my bag. My guns an ammo's in there. And te pic af me an Murph" the Irishman mur-mured and his friend looked at him.

"I'll get your stupid bag. Just let me get yer whiny ass inside the car first."

Daryl placed Connor on the passenger seat and then walked back to the crashed car. He found Connor's bag somewhere on the back seat and made sure no walkers were anywhere close to them. When he got back inside the car and turned it around he eyed Connor for a moment. He was leaning his head against the window and looked down on himself and all the blood. The Irishman was in shock by the looks of it. Daryl placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him.

"I said no sleepin."

Connor just smirked and nodded. Daryl couldn't drive away fast enough. He'd done it. He'd saved Connor's life. _Again_.  
He knew that if Carol hadn't changed his mind, Connor would've been dead by now. He owed the woman one hell of an apology.


	24. Death Sentence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 9 " _Triggerfinger_ "

Daryl had quite some trouble keeping Connor awake on their way back to the farm. He tried to keep his friend busy by asking him about Murphy, but Connor wouldn't talk about him. He had just closed his eyes again when Daryl nudged him.

"Eh, yah know that when yah keep closin yer eyes like that y'might fall asleep and die."

Connor nodded tiredly.

"Aye...just..noticed the fuckin blood lately?"

"I know but we're almost there."

"I just wanna fuckin sleep."

"I know. How bout yah tell me something then. Yah keep talkin all the time might as well do it now."

"Tell ye what?" Connor murmured and looked at Daryl.

"I don't know..just talk! Why and how did yah get yer stupid tattoos?"

The Irishman snorted and looked at his index finger. After a moment of hesitation he talked.

"Got the Virgin Mary tattoo first, me an Murph. When we were 16. Just fer the fun af it. Something everyone could see. Murph had it on the same side as me. He drew it class one day cos he was bored..and we thought it looked cool. Two years later we got te cross. I drew that. Because af what we and Ma believed in. When we were 20 we got Veritas and Aequitas. We were always so keen on getting everything fuckin symmetrical. Didn't do anything fer a while after that. When we fled the states and returned ta Ireland we got started with the back tattoos. We did tem ourselves. Nat only the design but we actually tattooed them on each other ourselves. Murphy did mine. That's the last one we got."

"What is it with yah twins doing the same shit t'gether all the time."

Connor smirked.

"Cos it's fun."

"Yah just want t'confuse the shit outta everyone."

Connor shrugged.

"Whatever. Me and Murph didn't look like each other. Obviously. Nat really. We're fraternal."

Connor closed his eyes again and Daryl nudged him once more.

"Come on now, we're almost there Connor."

The Irishman smirked.

"Wow, you actually know me name."

"What?"

"Now I'm Connor all af the sudden. Ye've never called me by my name before. All you ever called me was freak, leprechaun or psycho."

"Cos you are a freak, leprechaun" Daryl muttered.

"Can I ask ye somethin?" Connor asked after a while and Daryl looked at him.

"What?"

The Irishman turned his head and looked at his friend. When Daryl looked back at him he was quite surprised to see how pale Connor was. His face was still bloody from the crash and the wound on his forehead. When the hunter looked at his leg he saw how bad it actually was. He was still bleeding. Connor leaned back and sighed.

"Why did ye change yer mind?"

"Don't know what yer talkin bout."

"A few hours ago you said that you didn't care if I was alive or dead. You said ye wouldn't come with me and that yer done looking fer people.  
And yet you still came looking fer me and saved my life."

Daryl sighed.

"I just did."

Connor looked out of the window when they saw the farm in front of them. After a couple of minutes they were back with the group.  
When Daryl stopped the car he eyed Connor.

"Cos I care about y' stupid prick. Maybe more than you think. Someone 's gotta watch yer suicidal ass."

Daryl got out to get Connor. It was hard to get him out of the car since he was quite heavy.  
Lori and Shane came out of the farmhouse and gasped in surprise when they saw Connor.  
They came running for them as Daryl carried his friend to the farmhouse.

"What happened?" Lori asked and Shane approached them.

"What did yah worthless redneck trash do to him this time?" he asked and grabbed Connor who looked up and clung to Daryl.

"Get yer fuckin hands af me and keep yer fuckin trap shut. He saved my life."

Daryl glared at Lori and Shane. He was mad at the cop for calling him trash and it was all that stupid bitch's fault Connor had left to search for her husband.

"He was in a car accident and got attacked by walkers. He didn't get bit but he was stuck and when I pulled him out.." he nodded towards Connor's injured leg.

"Please tell me that dumb peasant's back. We need him t' stitch him back together."

Shane shook his head.

"Sorry to disappoint. They ain't back. We're planning on going to town tomorrow morning. It's too risky now."

They entered the farmhouse and Lori walked ahead.

"I'll go and get Maggie. Maybe she can do something."

* * *

Daryl placed Connor on the bed he'd already slept in after his suicide attempt.  
He checked on his injury and kept looking at his friend who could hardly keep his eyes open any longer.  
After a moment of considering his options he grabbed Connor's belt to get it off him. The Irishman groaned and opened his eyes.

"Are ye tryin ta rape me now?"

Daryl snorted.

"Shut up."

Once he got the belt he strapped it around Connor's thigh just above the cut. Then he pulled which made the Irishman gasp in pain.

"That'll stop the bleeding for now. But we still need someone t'check on you."

"Have ye got something hot? An iron or something?"

"Why, yah wanna iron yer clothes now?"

"Don't be stupid. Burn the wound. It'll sterilize it and close it. They're doing it in the movies all te time."

"What are yah, insane? This isn't a movie! We'll wait for Rick and the old man to return.."

He was interrupted when someone opened the door and entered the room.  
Both Connor and Daryl turned their heads and saw how Maggie and her sister Beth entered the room.

"We said doctor, not school girls." Daryl growled and Maggie frowned.

"Do you want us to help you or not?"

The hunter snorted.

"Yeah, cos people like yah wouldn't just make it worse. Might as well do it myself."

"Eh, relax fellas, now's nat the time ta fight over me. You can both be my girlfriends. Little help now?" Connor interrupted their fight.

Maggie and Daryl glared at each other for a moment. Herschel's daughter shook her head and sat down on the bed next to Connor.  
She looked at his injured leg and moved her finger over the wound. The Irishman twitched and hissed.

"Ah fuck, that hurts like fuckin hell."

"Daryl, Beth, we need some alcohol, water, some thread and a needle."

Her sister nodded and left the room. Maggie looked at Daryl.

"We need alcohol, water, thread and needle. Help my sister and go get it." she repeated and he snorted.

"How bout you go and help her yerself?"

"A minute ago you were all over him and bitched at everyone who wouldn't help him and who got in the way and now you won't get the stuff he needs?"

"Just leave it. He's just jealous af ye because you get t'touch me."

Daryl frowned.

"I'm not.."

"Daryl just stop it with yer bullshit now. Now's nat the time ta discuss this shit. I'm fuckin bleeding ta death here."

"It's just a scratch, don't be so overdramatic" Daryl growled and finally left the room. Connor snickered after a moment.

Maggie cleaned his wound in the meantime.

"He fuckin loves me and he knows it."

"Yeah, he loves you as his punching bag, judging from what I've heard" Maggie murmured and Connor frowned.

"Oh don't fuckin start. Not ye too, you don't even know 'im."

"I'm just saying what everybody else says.. God knows, he could've done that" Maggie murmured and Connor frowned.

"No he fucking didn't, 't was a walker I hit and the stupid car that turned over."

He shook his head angrily and looked at Herschel's daughter.  
He was thankful that she was trying to help him although they hardly ever talked, but right now her whole talk made him hate her a bit.

"What is it with ye people that you keep treating him like shit?"

"Because he's a douchebag" Maggie murmured and Connor snorted angrily.

"Oh fuck you. Seriously. He fucking saved my life. Three times. He went out there looking fer that girl. Every day."

Maggie looked quite surprised because of his choice of words, but when she wanted to say something Beth and Daryl returned with a bowl full of water, a bottle of whiskey and needle and threat. Daryl stayed with Connor when the Greene sisters stitched him back together and distracted his friend from the pain by mocking him every time he winced. He managed to get Connor angry with all the names he called him as Maggie cared for him. Angering the Irishman was exactly what he wanted to achieve. Because he knew that the anger eased the pain a bit. Soon after Connor was cared for and the bleeding had stopped Beth and Maggie left again because Daryl kept telling them to leave. Daryl let out a relieved sigh and sat down on a chair next to Connor's bed. He enjoyed the silence for a bit and kept the Irishman company. He wanted to wait for him to fall asleep before he left, just to make sure that Connor was really alright. He still didn't trust the Greene sisters. The Irishman spoke after a while.

"D'ye think Rick's dead?"

Daryl looked up and shook his head after a moment.

"Nah. Not the first time he went out and came back late. He's been to Atlanta. Twice. And he's still alive. He's tough."

"Shame we couldn't help him."

"I'll go with Shane, T-Dog and Andrea tomorrow. We'll get 'em."

"I'm gonna come with ye."

Daryl snorted.

"No fuckin way."

Connor rolled his eyes.

"Just a fuckin scratch. I'm dying ta get t'kill some walkers again. It's so fucking boring here."

"Maggie said yer muscle's torn."

"So what, got enough other muscles."

Daryl snickered and shook his head.

"Don't expect me t'look after yah then. Yer fault if yah get eaten because yer limpin all the way through."

Connor grinned then.

"Bullshit, I know you'd come after me. You always do."

Daryl snorted and shook his head.

"Yah wish."

They didn't speak for a while until Connor couldn't help asking.

"Eh Murph?"

"What is it now. Shut up and sleep."

"Just...you were nat going ta leave, were ye? When you got the tent?"

Daryl looked at Connor for a while and then shrugged.

"Don't know. Maybe. I thought about it."

"But why?"

"Cos yah keep annoying the crap outta me."

Connor snorted.

"No, I mean really."

"Yeah, I mean really."

"Fuck you."

"Right back at yah, freak."

He took a deep breath then.

"Guess I just wanted t' be alone after all the crap that happened."

"If ye're ever goin ta leave, fuckin tell me, okay?"

Daryl snorted.

"Why would I?"

"Cos I wanna come with ye."

"So what, we walk off into the sunset? Happily ever after? Stop being so gay, will yah."

Connor snickered.

"Fuck ye, who's the jealous one whenever 'm talking t'someone else."

"Screw yah, I ain't jealous."

* * *

Connor gave in to the exhaustion soon after that and as soon as he was asleep Daryl left. He knew that his friend needed to rest for a bit because he had lost a lot of blood. Although he didn't want to admit it, he was quite worried because of Connor. He had a pretty nasty cut and his muscle was torn which meant that he couldn't really walk for a couple of weeks. At least Maggie had said so. _And not being able to walk or run these days?_ This could be a death sentence. He was glad that they were still at the farm but he didn't know how long they would stay now that they had found Sophia and shot everyone inside Herschel's barn.

 _What if the stupid man wanted them to leave now? What if they ended up camping someplace like they'd done just outside Atlanta?_ He knew how that had ended. Jim and Amy had died when they'd gotten overrun. Walkers could attack them any minute anyway. And if Connor couldn't run when they came and he ran out of bullets just like tonight...Daryl shook his head angrily. _Why would he worry about something like that? He'd told himself over and over again that he didn't need anyone._ Before they'd found the farm he'd been alone too and he'd been fine. Having other people to worry about was nothing but a handicap these days. Having someone you care about meant nothing but trouble. It made you weak. _Because when you get attacked and start running for your loved ones, it will get you killed._

He'd been alone and he'd survived on his own. For months. And then he'd met Connor. The Irishman made him do stupid and dangerous things. Like doing the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to a person that could be dead and eat your face off. Like leaving for a walker-infested town just to save a person that was stupid enough to go on his own. Connor made him weak and he didn't like that. But at the same time Connor was the only person in the world that stood up for him and told people to fuck off whenever they started treating him like trash _. Oh Christ._ He hated how he love-hated that stupid Irish clown.


	25. Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Daryl POV this time. Next chap's going to be a Connor chap. And the fic's coming to an end soon! No! Just like the season! Nooo!
> 
>  **setting:** episode 9 " _Triggerfinger_ "

* * *

  


* * *

 

Daryl got up early the next morning. It was quite weird waking up alone inside the tent. Funny how easily he had gotten used to Connor's company _. And he had wanted to throw him out? Geez, now it felt like he couldn't even last a week without that dumbass._ He left the tent and stared across the fields. He could see some members of the group walking around. Daryl could make out Dale, Andrea, Shane and T-Dog. It was getting colder outside but it wasn't like he didn't like it. The heat was disgusting most of the time. He welcomed the chill when he grabbed a new shirt and his biker vest. As the hunter headed for the farmhouse he thought about whether to check on Connor or not. Once he'd reached the road and saw how Shane and T-Dog got the car ready he decided to let it go. He'd been obvious enough yesterday. It had taken him weeks to admit that he liked the Irishman and there was no need to show that all too soon. Daryl had a task to concentrate on now. Finding and bringing back Rick, Glenn and Herschel.

He just nodded when Shane and T-Dog eyed him for a moment. They didn't need any words. The two men understood that he'd come with them so they turned around again to get the stuff inside the car. Daryl was just taking a sip of his water when he heard Andrea coming. "Guys" she said and pointed towards the dusty road that led towards the highway. Daryl, Shane and T-Dog turned around when they heard a car. When it got closer they saw that it was Rick. _Well so much for that. Looks like we don' have t'go to town and search for Rick,_ Daryl thought as he watched them coming closer. Part of him was disappointed. He'd been looking forward to getting a bit of zombie killing action in town. When the car stopped and Rick got out of it the other members of the group and the Greene family exited the farmhouse. Little Carl came running for his father with a relieved cheer and Lori hugged her husband.

Just seeing her made Daryl angry all over again.

_Yeah right, now y'have him back and Connor's leg's damaged for nothing, stupid bitch. Why was she always so lucky?  
How did she manage to get her husband back every single time? Her family was still in one piece whereas the others kept suffering._

"Prepare the shed for surgery" Herschel said when he got out of the car and headed for his house.

Daryl just watched all the happy family and couple reunions for a moment and considered checking on Connor when T-Dog pointed at the car.

"Who the hell's that?" he asked and everyone looked the way he was pointing.

There was some sort of teenaged kid sitting in the backseat. He was blindfolded and seemed to be in some state of shock.

"That's Randall" Glenn said and everyone approached the car to get a closer look.

* * *

Daryl had just gone back to his tent to bring his crossbow back and store it. When he returned to the farmhouse everyone was already inside.  
After a moment of hesitation he grabbed the door handle and entered the house as well. The whole group was gathered around the table.

"Isn't that the same as leaving him for the walkers?" Andrea asked and Rick shook his head. "He'll have a fighting chance."

_Right, so they're discussing the kid's fate._

As Daryl looked around the room he was surprised to see Connor sitting there in the corner. He was still rather pale and didn't seem to pay attention to what was being discussed. He was leaning against the wall and rested his head on the other wall. When he saw Daryl he looked up and smiled tiredly. Daryl nodded and managed a faint smile as well. When he turned his head he saw Carol sitting there. She looked at Connor for a moment and then back at him. She was smiling, too.

Daryl looked at her in surprise and then turned his head to pretend he was actually listening to what Rick and Shane were discussing. He felt a bit uncomfortable. Not only was he inside an actual house, wearing some-what clean clothes and trying to reconnect with the group, but he'd also just been greeted with smiles from both Connor and Carol. Most of the time, whenever he'd entered a room or sat down somewhere with the group, it had always been like he was invisible. Even now Rick, Shane, Andrea and all the others weren't even paying attention to him. He didn't even know if they'd actually seen him. But there they were, Connor and Carol, smiling at him, being happy about the fact that he was there. _Oh great, so 't takes the freakin apocalypse an dead men walkin t'get ya a friend and a woman that cares about yah._

Shane and Rick were discussing whether the newbie was a threat or not and after a few minutes it all ended in a big fight between the two men again. Daryl hated how they both kept showing off who was the bigger boss. He saw how Connor rolled his eyes and assumed that the Irishman had just thought the same which made Daryl smirk a bit.

"How many of them were there? You killed three of their men, you took one of them hostage, and they just ain't gonna come looking for him" Shane said which made Rick angry.

"They left him for dead, no one is looking" he spat when Connor interrupted him.

"Ye killed three af their men?"

Rick and Shane eyed Connor then and blew out some air.

"Now isn't the time for your saint crap, buddy" Shane said and Connor snorted.

"Oh, I think otherwise, _buddy_. That's fuckin murder."

"They were shooting at us! They were threatening our group!" Rick said and eyed Connor.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you think I'm a murderer because of that."

Both men stared at each other for a while and then Connor looked away.

"No" he said quietly and shook his head.

"We should still post a guard" T-Dog said then and Connor was excluded from the discussion. Daryl looked at him in surprise. It wasn't like Connor to stop a conversation like that. Actually giving in, believing someone that easily. Especially when it involved murder and his views on that. When Daryl looked at his friend and Connor didn't really notice, he saw how the Irishman pulled a face from time to time and kept rubbing his thigh. He looked pale and sick, so Daryl assumed he was in pain and hadn't slept much last night. But Connor, being Connor, would never admit that or show that.

"You know, I'm going out and get him some flowers and candy" Shane said and walked away.

"Look at this folks, we're back in fantasy land" he went on when Herschel went after him.

"You know, we haven't dealt with what you did with my barn yet, so let me make this perfectly clear once and for all: This is my farm. I wanted you gone. Rick talked me out of it but that doesn't mean I have to like it. So do us both a favor. Keep your mouth shut."

Connor looked up then and eyed Herschel and Shane for a moment. When Shane wouldn't say anything and just stared at the old man the Irishman turned his head and looked at Daryl with a grin. He mouthed an " _ouch_ " and Daryl tried not to grin. He failed. They both had been waiting for this for weeks. Shane left with an angry sigh as Rick approached Herschel and patted his shoulder.

"Look, we're not going to do anything about it today. Let's just cool off" he said and Herschel nodded.

Andrea left after a moment, too. When she did Connor looked at Daryl again and chuckled soundlessly. When he made an indecent gesture with his hands Daryl just rolled his eyes. Their wordless conversation got interrupted when Carol approached him all of a sudden and smiled again. Somehow it just pissed him off. Of course he owed her Connor's life. Of course she'd changed his mind for the better but that didn't mean that he wanted her to be near him 24/7. He had had a pretty hard time accepting Connor and the Irishman was more than a handful. Right now he had enough of the being around other people for today. So he turned around, pushed the door open with an eye roll and left.

* * *

Carol kept following him. He headed for his tent and growled.

"Can't yah mind yer own business for once?"

"You didn't run away."

"What, you can use the thing between yer ears. Yer not as dumb as I thought."

"You went to look for him" she went on and he turned around abruptly. He narrowed his eyes and frowned.

"Don't start with your " _you're every bit as good as them_ " crap. Seriously woman, what the hell, yah've been reading t'much housewife magazine shit. Don't go psychologist on me."

He pointed at her and growled. She just smiled and he eyed her when she wouldn't say anything.

_Oh how he hated when she did that. When she wouldn't give in to all his mockings and tortured him with that awkward silence._

"I went lookin for that prick because I didn't want his blood on my hands. Cos it was my fault he left being all injured, cos I beat him.  
I just wanted t' settle old scores. Nothing else."

"You smiled back. He's changed you. I've never seen you smile before we found him."

Daryl snorted angrily but didn't know what to say. Because it was _true_.  
 _Good lord, he'd been_ _ **happy**_ _when he'd seen that the stupid Irish freak was awake._

He shook his head angrily and turned around.

"Leave me the fuck alone and stop comin after me. I ain't like that prick. I don' care who I hit, I don' care if yah some stupid woman.  
Yah keep following me yah won' see the rest of it" he spat and started walking.

Carol didn't follow him then but it was like he could still see her smiling at his back.


	26. Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after I saw the latest episode and we were informed that Herschel's family's from _Ireland_ and he _believes in god_ I just had to write this little conversation in.Because christ, it's like the Walking Dead writers are such a tease. :D I hope I'm done with the pointless small talk chapters now and get some more action in later chapters.  
>  As for now, enjoy a little Ireland talk.
> 
>  **setting:** episode 10 " _18 Miles Out_ "

Connor watched how Daryl left the farmhouse. He was surprised how quickly his mood had changed from joking around to being all pissed again. He noticed that his mood had changed when Carol went after him. He snorted. _Jesus, just get laid already,_ he thought and shook his head. The Irishman tried to get up to follow Daryl when his leg gave in and he almost fell. _Jesus fuckin Christ that hurts._ Connor tried to get hold of the chair when someone placed a hand on his shoulder. When he looked up he saw Herschel standing next to him.

"Maybe I should take a look at your leg, boy?"

Connor shook his head and waved it off.

"Nah, 's all right. Maggie stitched it back tagether yesterday. I'm fine."

He was just about to leave when he almost fell again. Herschel took him by his arm.

"I think you should come with me."

Connor bit his lower lip to muffle a groan. He hated to admit it, but he was in much pain this morning. Daryl had done the right thing yesterday. Pulling him out like that. But even though it had been the right thing to do it didn't mean he liked it. It had been either that or death though, so he tried to hide the pain. Connor followed Herschel to the room he had slept in last night and lay down on the bed when the farmer told him so. He felt quite uneasy about it since someone was fumbling around on his wound all over again. When Herschel got rid of the bloody bandage around his thigh Connor hissed in pain.

"That looks pretty deep. "

"Aye."

"What happened exactly?"

"Got stuck in te car after the crash. There was that great big piece af glass stuck in me thigh and it cut right through when Murph pulled me out.  
But we didn't have time. There were walkers everywhere."

"You're not going to be able to walk around much during the next couple of weeks."

"Aye, I fuckin know" Connor mumbled and lay back.

Just looking at the wound made him feel sick.

"You're quite lucky that Rick's such a decent man and convinced me that your group can stay."

"Aye, I thank the lord fer that. Sweet mercy."

Herschel took care of Connor's wound for a moment. When he looked up he eyed his rosaries.

"We never really had the chance to talk much before. Do you believe in god, boy?"

Connor nodded and grasped his rosaries.

"Aye. Af course. But kinda feels like I'm the only one these days. Everyone loses faith so easily."

"You're not the only religious one in this house. I raised my children under the lord's name. We still pray every morning."

Connor looked at him for a while and nodded.

"Aye, me too."

He winced when Herschel touched his wound again.

"You're from Ireland?" the old man went on after a while when Connor stopped groaning in pain.

Part of him just wanted to curse Herschel for all his questions.  
In the end he knew why he was doing it though, because the farmer was smart and wanted to distract him from the pain.

"Aye, it's nat like you can't hear it. Why'd ye ask?"

"My family's from Ireland too."

Connor snickered.

"Well isn't that funny. Where ye from?"

"It's been over a hundred years since they moved here. Before I was born. A couple of miles outside Limerick I was told."

"Right" Connor murmured and thought about his home country.

He missed Ireland. But even if he could go back now... even Ireland wouldn't be home any more. Because Murphy wasn't there with him. He thought about all the years he'd spent over there. Oddly enough, he didn't think about the last 10 years he'd spent there with Murphy. Of course, those years had been peaceful and calm but somehow, when he heard " _Ireland_ " now, he thought about little Murphy. Snotface. He'd called him that all the time. He remembered them running across fields all day, setting things on fire, running after Mr Lynch's cattle and scaring the shit out of them. Going to church with Ma every Sunday.

_Oh Christ, Ireland made him think about his mother again._

_That crazy woman._

He had Murphy had been talking about her back in Boston when they had tried to get to the boats. Both twins had kind of accepted that their mother was dead, but sometimes Connor wasn't so sure about it. Because she was _Annabelle fuckin MacManus._ He remembered that crazy drunk woman that smelled of whiskey all the time and that kept making fun of them 24/7. Well, he was just like her after all. _Even walkers couldn't kill that woman, could they?_ He imagined her standing there with her pans and beating the shit out of those dead bastards.  
It made him smile.

_I hope you rest in peace now, Ma. Cos I don' wanna meet ye some day and have ta tell you that our Murph's dead. I fuckin failed Ma. I couldn't fuckin save him. I wonder if he's with you. Maybe yer laughing at me now, the two af ye. Af course yer laughing at me. 's Da with you as well? Christ, I'd love ta see that. You've spent all yer life complaining about him._

And as he thought about his dead family he felt sad all over again. He was the only MacManus left on this world. His parents, his brother, they were all in heaven. Waiting for him. Maybe heaven was green. Maybe heaven looked like their old house, or their farm in Ireland. Whenever he thought about peace, this was what he pictured after all. Peace. That felt nice. Now that he was so tired. Maybe, if he could just close his eyes a little...

"Connor."

He smirked when he heard that voice.

"Eh snotface."

"Stop callin me that."

He snickered and shook his head.

"Nah, ye're a snotface."

"Connor, wake up."

"What are ye talking about, Murph, I'm here" he murmured but winced when someone hit his cheek.

* * *

_It's been almost a week._ That was all Daryl could think about. The fever had hit four days ago. Four days ago Connor had collapsed inside the farmhouse, just when Herschel had taken a look at his leg. He'd been gone all day when it had happened. Just after he had left. The day Carol had followed him and he'd run off because of that. Gone hunting. When he had returned later that evening, Rick had told him about Connor. That Herschel had taken another look at his wound and discovered that it was infected. Because nothing was sterile these days. Because that stupid glass had been dirty. The Irishman had been feverish for four days now. Herschel blamed it on his blood loss and malnutrition. That somehow, Connor's body was just too weak to fight the infection properly. Funny how something like _this_ could be deadly nowadays. A year ago you would've gone to some Doctor and three days later you were healthy again. But now? All they had was a freaking vet and an his daughters.

When people like Carol, Rick or Lori had asked him whether he wanted to visit the Irishman he'd turned them down. He still hadn't seen Connor. He didn't want to. Most of the group assumed it was because he was still trying to isolate himself. Because they _believed_ him whenever he told them that he didn't care about the Irishman and his stupid fever. The truth was rather different. He was worried sick. He knew that Connor could die any minute now. And he needed to be ready. He needed to get used to the loneliness again. Used to an empty tent. Used to the silence. He'd done everything he could. He'd gone back to save the Irishman from certain death. He'd pulled him out. He'd brought him back home. There was nothing more he could do about it.

Daryl went hunting again. More regularly. On longer trips. And whenever he returned with a bunch of squirrels he prepared himself for the notification: _Connor 's dead._ But somehow, every single time he returned from another hunt, no such thing would happen. The kid Rick and Glenn had brought from the city had recovered, too. It was the day when Rick and Shane decided to drive him away, some place where he couldn't possibly find back, when Daryl finally entered the farmhouse to check on his friend. Because after one week of just _waiting_ he needed to see for himself. Connor was still lying in bed, all sweaty and pale. Daryl sat down next to the bed after a while and sighed.

"Aren't yah a whiny pussy. Always in bed with some sort of stupid injury" he murmured and looked at his friend.

"I mean I got shot and had an arrow stuck in my side and I was fine and then there's you..really, what a girl."

"Snotface" he heard Connor murmur which made him snort in surprise.

"What did yah call me?"

"It's nat my fuckin fault te cat's dead" Connor went on which made Daryl frown.

_The Irish freak's dreaming about dead cats?_

"Connor" he said then because this was getting ridiculous.

"Eh snotface."

Daryl growled.

"Stop calling me that."

Connor snickered and shook his head.

"Nah, ye're a snotface."

_So was he actually talking to him now or was he still dreaming?_

"Connor, wake up" he said angrily and shook Connor impatiently.

"What are ye talking about, Murph, I'm here" the Irishman answered and Daryl had enough.

 _It's about time someone wakes yah up._ He slapped Connor which made him wince.

When Daryl's hand touched Connor's cheek he felt how hot his skin really was. _Christ, he's burning up,_ he thought and sighed.  
After quite a while Connor's eyelids fluttered.

"Good lord's about time yah wake up. Silly bastard."

"Murph?" the Irishman muttered and blinked a few times.

"Daryl" his friend corrected him impatiently and shook him.

"Now wake up."

It took Connor a while to wake up properly and once he did he eyed Daryl and grabbed his cheek.

"Stop fucking hitting me fer once, will ye" he murmured and got rid of the blanket.

When Daryl saw his wound he gasped in surprise. It looked disgusting and nasty. He tried to ignore it and looked at Connor.

"Somebody needed t'wake yah up."

"When did I fall asleep?"

"Bout a week ago."

Connor's eyes widened.

"Are ye fuckin kidding me?"

Daryl shook his head and shrugged.

"Now hurry up with the healing crap. We've got bigger problems now."

"Like what?"

"The kid."

The Irishman frowned and scratched his neck.

"What kid?"

"The little fucker Rick brought when they returned. He doesn' have the guts to kill 'im so he and Shane took him out today.  
Drove off somewhere."

"And how's that a problem?"

"I think he's a danger to the group. His group. I mean they tried t' shoot Rick."

Connor snorted and tried to sit up.

"It's a fuckin kid, how old was he? 17?"

"Yeah but his group..."

"So, what do you want _me_ t'do about et?" the Irishman interrupted him and eyed his friend.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly and took a deep breath. Daryl just eyed Connor for a while and then got up with a sigh.

"I just meant t'tell yah. Better heal up soon. They could attack us any day and when all hell breaks loose I ain't gonna babysit yah cripple."

The Irishman smirked and snorted.

"Yer worried 'bout me, aren't you?"

Daryl snorted and shook his head.

"Yah wish. I just had the guts t'tell yah that yer going t'bite the dust soon."

"Ah, ye think so?" Connor snickered and Daryl nodded.

"Counting on it."

"Oh ye just watch me. I'll cover yer stupid ass when they attack. I don't need two legs ta raise a little hell."

Daryl smirked. _Now that's what I wanted to hear._

* * *

When he left his face fell though. They were in a pretty stupid situation. No, even worse.

_We're fucked. Just because the stupid cop hasn't got the guts t'make the right decisions._

He considered leaving again. Because he didn't want to die because of someone else. Just because this group consisted of so many _stupid_ idiots. In the end he knew that he wasn't going to leave though. He'd gotten used to everyone. He'd gotten used to being a part of a group.  
Because people finally let him be part of something. Because he'd made _friends_ here.

_We're fucked. I'm fucked._

He remembered what Connor had said just a minute ago.

_Raise a little hell._

Somehow that just nailed it. He wasn't going to leave and he was sure of one thing: _Ain't going down without raising a little hell first. Let them come._ If they're going to come, with the kid, then he was ready. And he would make sure the kid died first.


	27. Torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chap! Man, I'm writing _Judge, Jury, Executioner_ already! Wtf! But this is a good Connor episode. Because it's all about the innocent/guilty thingy. Maybe Connor's out of character here but this is a really tough topic. It's the apocalypse. All of the social standards don't apply anymore so the whole saints ideology doesn't apply either. Still need to figure things out. Let's just justify the way I wrote Connor here with this: He loves Daryl almost as much as Murphy. I think he'd choose his brother over his faith and ideology. If it were Murphy who did the beating stuff here I'm pretty sure Connor'd bend his own rules to make them fit his brother's actions. And we still don't know whether Randall's innocent or not. WALKING DEAD WRITERS. I DAMN YOU! *shakes fist*  
>  Really loving this chapter (but not because of the torture!). Especially the Rick/Daryl talk and the way Connor and Daryl are starting to work as a team.
> 
>  **setting:** episode 11 " _Judge, Jury, Executioner_ "

Rick and Shane returned later this afternoon with the kid still in the back of their car. When Daryl saw them coming he shook his head and sighed angrily. _Christ, they're stupid._ If he were the leader of the group he would have taken care of it days ago. By putting a bullet to the kid's head. The two policemen were bruised and looked like they'd been beaten by someone and when Lori asked what happened, they just looked at each other and shook their heads.

"We had a little..discussion."

Daryl snorted when he heard this. He felt like he was in some sort of shitty soap-opera. So those two dumbasses were _fighting_ over that bitch. The day ended with just another discussion over the kid's fate and when Rick got started with all his " _not yet_ "'s and " _I need to think_ "'s Daryl had enough. He went back to his own place to mind his own business. As he watched his campfire burn he thought about the whole situation. He kind of wanted to take care of it himself. Because he _knew_ what was good for the group. Eliminating the threat that was this kid. _He_ had the guts to kill him. He was tied up in the shed just on the other side of the field. Next to the farmhouse. Daryl grabbed his bowie knife and looked at it. Then he turned his head to look at the farmhouse and shed.

_All yah have t'do is go over there and end it. No more discussions. No threat._

He really considered it for a moment but then put his knife away with a sigh. The hunter knew that if _he_ did it now people wouldn't understand. Because they didn't want to. They would kick him out because of this. Because after all those weeks he had spent with them alone now, without Merle, they _still_ thought he was the baddie. Merle, that bastard. If he was still there he would've taken care of it already. Days ago. Probably the moment the kid had stepped out of the car. And Merle, being Merle, would've gotten away with it. Because he really was the baddie after all and people had hardly ever tried to get into a fight with him. Not even Shane. Daryl hated to admit that he was weaker than his big brother. But he wouldn't do it. Because he was afraid of getting kicked out. Not because he was afraid of dying when he was on his own. He was perfectly fine as survivor and could watch his ass perfectly fine. It was the loneliness he was afraid of. In the end even he had to admit that he just _needed_ someone with him. No matter how stupid and bitchy they were.

* * *

He was woken up by Rick the next morning.

"Daryl, I need you to watch over Randall when you're ready."

"Why don't yah do it yerself?" Daryl murmured when he got out of the tent.

Rick looked at him for a while and scratched his nose nervously.

"I need you to get information from him."

Daryl froze when he heard this. He knew what Rick meant.

_Had he seriously just hinted torture?_

Daryl snorted.

_Of course he'd come and ask me t'do this sort of dirty work._

"What, now yah take hostage, yah ain't got the guts t'kill him and then yah come t'me so I do all your dirty work? Typical.  
Why don't yah ask yer boyfriend, he sure loves a good beatin" the hunter remarked and pointed at Rick's black eye.

"I don't trust Shane on this. He wants him dead."

Daryl snorted again and eyed Rick.

"Who says I don't."

"I know this group matters to you. We matter to you. You went looking for Sophia, you bring us food, you saved Connor's life..."

Daryl growled and turned around to leave.

"Don' bring up this crap. I didn't do nothin."

"I think his group is dangerous. They were armed. They shot at us in cold blood and if they come back they might hurt us. Everyone.  
Doesn't matter if they're young, old, women, or _injured."_

The hunter rolled his eyes. He hated how Rick tried to talk him into this by mentioning people that mattered to him.  
He turned around and eyed the policeman for a while. Then he sighed.

"What do yah need t'know?"

* * *

He found Randall inside the shed by the farmhouse. Rick and Shane had cuffed him to a chair and when Daryl entered the room he turned his head and looked at him.

"Hey man, you've gotta get me out of here.. your buddies are crazy!"

Daryl snorted and eyed the kid.

"Who says I ain't?"

Randall whimpered when Daryl came closer.

"Man, what's the point in all this now, your people saved my ass! Yah took care of my wounds, why would you do that if you want t' kill me now?  
Please, just let me go!"

The way he kept begging made Daryl angry. When the kid wouldn't shut up he clenched his fists and beat him.

"Please, I didn't do anything!" Randall cried and groaned in pain.

"Yeah, I bet" Daryl said and beat him again.

Suddenly the door opened and both Daryl and Randall turned their heads.

Daryl groaned when he saw Connor entering the shed.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here. Aren't yah supposed to be in bed cryin over yer brother or somethin?"

Connor rolled his eyes and limped inside.

"Shut up, what te fuck are ye doing?"

"Please, you've got to let me out! Get him away! He's crazy, he'll kill me!" Randall said and looked at Connor who snorted.

He patted Daryl's shoulder and nodded.

"Aye, that fella's crazy as fuck. But sorry, can't let ye out. None af my business."

Suddenly Daryl punched Randall again.

"Keep your trap shut!"

"Eh Murph, easy!" Connor said and tried to pull Daryl back.

He just shoved him.

"Just leave it. Go the fuck away" his friend growled and the Irishman snorted.

"Yer te one that walked in and asked me fer help with the kid. So what's the deal?"

Daryl eyed Connor for a moment and then wiped his mouth. Randall kept begging and whimpering but they ignored him.

"Rick needs answers. We need t'know what we're up against."

"I told you.." Randall murmured which made Daryl snap again.

"You told me shit!" he spat and grabbed the kid to pin him against the wall. Connor grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him back.

"Murph, stop beatin that fuckin kid!" he yelled and Daryl shrugged him off.

"Get yer hands off me!"

He turned around and looked at Connor.

"If yah don' like what yah see, there's the fucking door. Rick told me t'take care of him and get answers. Now shut up or make yourself useful."

Both men stared at each other for a moment and the Irishman sighed. He looked at Randall then.

"Fuckin tell him what you know."

"I barely knew those guys! I met them on the road!"

"How many in your group?" Daryl asked but Randall wouldn't answer him.

Suddenly Connor approached him until they were face to face.

"He said how many people are in yer fuckin group?" he yelled but Randall just kept panting and groaning in pain.

Suddenly Connor heard how Daryl grabbed his knife. He turned around and looked at his friend in surprise.

"No no no no no, come on man..." the kid murmured and Connor frowned.

"Murph, what te fuck are ye.."

Daryl darted forward and stabbed the floor between Randall's legs.

"How many?" he yelled and Connor stumbled backwards in surprise.

"Jesus fuckin Christ!"

"Thirty! Thirty guys!" the kid stammered and Connor eyed Daryl in shock.

He'd always known that Daryl tended to lash out easily because most of the time he'd felt it himself with all the beatings he'd had to endure the past weeks. Now that he watched him go crazy on the kid he had to realize what Daryl was really capable off. He was like an animal.

"Murph... I think ye should stop now" he murmured but his friend wouldn't listen.

"Where?" the hunter went on and Randall wouldn't answer again.

Suddenly Daryl grabbed his bandage and ripped it off his injured leg which made his hostage scream in pain.  
Connor was suddenly well aware of his own injured leg.

"I don't know! I swear! We were never anyplace more than a night!"

The Irishman was horrified when Daryl placed his knife on the kids injury and started cutting him. What he was doing now was considered _torture._ A year ago he would've put a bullet to Daryl's head for of that. He'd spent over 10 years killing bad guys who hurt innocent people. He had his gun with him, he could shoot Daryl any minute now to make him stop. But he just couldn't get himself to do it. So he just stood there. Petrified. Horrified because his friend was so _broken._ So _violent. Was this really the guy who'd brought Carol a flower two weeks ago? The guy that had been devastated because of a dead girl he hardly knew?_

"Scouting? Planning on staying local?"

"I-I don't know. They- they left me behind."

He kept on cutting him and Connor approached Daryl. He was just about to place a hand on his shoulder to pull him back when his friend looked at him. He was actually threatening him with this look. _One more step and I'm gonna stab yah,_ it said so Connor backed off. He wouldn't leave though because he wanted to step in if Daryl decided to kill the boy. In the end they needed the information, but he didn't like the way they got it.

"Did you ever pick off a scab?" Daryl asked as he kept cutting his injury.

The kid yelped in pain and shook his head.

"Come on, man! I'm trying to cooperate!"

The hunter just ignored him. He guided the knife like an expert and Connor wondered if he had done it before.

"Start real slow at first" he went on and Randall screamed in pain again.

"Fuckin stop now, Daryl" Connor said and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Daryl shrugged him off.

" You tell him man..just...No!"

"Sooner or later, you've just gotta rip it off."

Connor watched in horror how Randall begged Daryl to stop.

_How could that man have his brother's face and voice? How could someone who looked so much like Murphy possibly do something so wrong?_

"Okay, okay...they have weapons. Heavy stuff, automatics..." Randall said when Connor was just about to make his friend stop again.

Daryl froze for a moment, then he went on cutting him.

"But I didn't do anything!" the kid yelped and Connor chewed on his lower lip.

"He's fuckin right man, fuckin stop it now."

Daryl eyed Connor for a moment and shook his head.

"You keep your mouth shut and fuckin leave now."

He turned his head and looked at Randall again.

"Your boys shot at my boys, tried to take this farm. You just went along for the ride? You're trying to tell me you're _innocent_?"

"Yes!" the kid shouted and nodded. Connor had enough.

He grabbed Daryl by his shoulders and shoved him.

"That's enough now! Just because he's with a group af douchebags it don't mean he's one af them as well! We don' fuckin know if he shot at Rick! You can't just torture people because ye _think_ they did shit!"

Daryl snorted and looked at his friend.

"Now's not the time for yah saint crap!"

"But it is! Yer fuckin nuts! Have ye seen yerself in the mirror lately? You look like a fuckin animal! Jesus fuckin Christ, what happened ta ya, man?"

They both just stared at each other for a moment and Daryl grunted. Connor turned around and took over the lead.  
He grabbed his friend's bowie knife and looked at Randall.

"How did ye end up with them?"

Their hostage panted heavily and then sighed.

" Oh thank god you made him stop.. These-these people took me in. Not just guys, a whole group of 'em. Men and women, kids too, just like you people. Thought I'd have a better chance with them, you know?"

Connor felt how Daryl was close behind him. He was nervous and the Irishman knew he could lash out any minute again.

"But...we go out, scavenge...just the men. One night we-we found this little campsite. A man and his two daughters. Teenagers, you know? Real young. Real _cute."_

The way he said this last word made both Daryl and Connor frown. They looked at Randall and waited for him to go on.

"Their daddy had to watch while these guys, they... and they didn't even kill him afterwards. They just...they just made him watch as his daughters... They just left him there."

Connor approached him slowly.

"Are ye fuckin telling me what I think?"

"No, but-but I didn't touch those girls. No, I swear I didn't do..."

"Are ye talking about rape?" the Irishman went on. 

When he saw how Daryl approached the kid as well he placed his hand on his chest and shoved him back.

"Please. Please you gotta believe me, man. I'm not like that."

"You just told me that you went out scavenging and knew those fuckin bastards do that kind af shit? Did ye say _cute_?"

"I ain't like that. Please" Randall begged and the Irishman narrowed his eyes.

"Are ye fuckin tellin me you watched them rape those girls and didn't do _nothing_ about it?"

Suddenly Connor pulled his gun and aimed it at Randall's head.

"Connor, yah can't just kill 'im like that" Daryl said.

"Shut up!" the Irishman spat and looked at Randall.

"Please you gotta believe me!" he begged as Connor undid the safety of his gun.

"Refraining fram helping people in need ans being indifferent ta crime's just as bad as the crime itself."

"I was scared, they would've killed me!"

Connor just stood there for a while and eyed the kid. He considered shooting him, but Daryl was right. They couldn't. _Not yet.  
_ He secured his gun and knelt down.

"Don't think that saved yer ass. We're gonna make sure ye'll end up in hell boy."

He got up again and turned around to face Daryl.

"He's yers."

When his friend started beating the kid again he didn't say a word anymore. He just stood there and watched how Daryl beat him up.  
And as he did so he thought about one word. Just one. _Aequitas._


	28. Doubts

They left the shed half an hour later. Daryl had been pretty rough by the end of their questioning and now that they were out of the shed Connor felt guilty. The problem was that he couldn't really tell whether the boy was innocent or not so he was having a hard time deciding if it was right to torture him like that. Daryl headed for his tent and Connor had trouble keeping up with him because of his injury.

"Eh Murph, don't fuckin run like that" he said after a moment and heard Daryl sigh.

The hunter turned around and eyed his friend.

"So now yer injured for once and can't keep up with me and I'm all glad I can run away from yah and now yer asking me t' wait?"

Connor nodded and stopped walking to rest for a minute.

"So, I take it yer nat gonna leave the group?"

"Nope. At least not yet. Not til this is finished. I owe 'em."

"So can I get me stuff an..ye know, come back ta te tent? I don't wanna be with that group on me own.  
Besides, ye need someone ta watch yer ass out there. In case walkers attack?"

Daryl snorted.

"I can watch my ass just fine."

"So I take that as a yes?"

Daryl rolled his eyes and turned around.

"Whatever. Freak."

He headed for his camp when Connor turned around to get his bag and guns from inside the RV. He heard how Rick and the group were discussing what to do with Randall and when he was just about to tell them what he and Daryl had heard he saw his friend coming. He was wearing his biker vest again, with his crossbow strapped around his shoulder. So he was planning on going hunting again. Connor grabbed his bag and joined him.

"Boy there's got a gang, 30 men. They have heavy artillery and they ain't looking to make friends.

They roll through here, our boys are dead and our women, they're gonna - they're gonna wish they were."

The Irishman grabbed a smoke and nodded.

"Aye, started showing off with those guys. Apparently, they go out, scavenge an whenever they meet other groups they torture and kill the men and rape the girls. Sick shit."

"What did you do?" Carol asked and pointed at Daryl's bloody knuckles.

"Had a little chat" he said and turned around to leave.

Carol looked at Connor then. He knew what that look meant.

_Why didn't you stop him? It isn't right._

The Irishman turned his head and looked at Daryl. All he saw was the angel wings on his vest. He sighed.

_I know._

"No one goes near this guy." Rick said and left as well.

"I'm with Murph if ye need me" Connor murmured and followed Daryl.

* * *

"Where are ye going?" the Irishman asked as he followed his friend back to the farmhouse.

Daryl turned around in surprise and looked at Connor, who had caught up with him and smiled at the hunter. Daryl just rolled his eyes.

"Just cos I saved yah ass and allowed yah t'sleep in my tent it don't mean that I want yah with me all the time" he murmured and sat down on a stone.

Connor grinned at him and grabbed a smoke.

"Well, should've thought about it before coming t'get me outta that car."

Daryl lay his crossbow down on the ground and looked at his bloody knuckles. The Irishman noticed all the blood and frowned.

"Want me ta get ye something?"

The hunter looked at him and snorted.

"No? Besides, 'm pretty sure Carol's running to get me stuff."

Connor nodded and looked down. For a while he just kept smoking and kicking the grass. He sighed and chewed on his lower lip.

"Do you think we were too hard on that kid?" he murmured and Daryl raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

The Irishman shrugged and looked at the shed where Randall was.

"Do you think we were too hard on him. Ye know, te whole torturing part. Especially you, man."

Daryl growled.

"What, yah think I didn't see how Carol glared at yah after trying t'stare _me_ down? I told yah t'leave me be and get the fuck outta there. Not my problem that you decided t'stay. I told yah to leave if yah don't like what yah see."

Connor snorted and looked at his friend.

"Aye, cos I'm that sort af man who turns his back on evil shit."

His friend raised both his eyebrows and snorted.

"Evil shit? News flash for yah, leprechaun: you did the same _evil_ shit. Not just me. So don't get me started on yer justice crap. Remember that you were the one who pulled his gun and wanted t'shoot the kid after yah heard about the raping bullshit. So don't come here and tell me about 'evil shit'."

"Aye! But I didn't do all that psycho shit with the knife. Jesus, look at yer fuckin knuckles!"

The hunter growled and turned his head. He saw Carl coming to join them.

_As if Connor didn't mean trouble enough._

"Yah know what? 'm gettin real tired of yah shit all the time. How about you make up yer mind for once? Don't go in there and help me with the kid only t'be a sissy afterwards. Help me or not, I don't care. But yah decide it's against yer oh so precious beliefs? Don't bother talking t'me about that shit then."

Connor snorted and threw his cigarette away.

"So yah think it was the right call, asshole?"

"I'd do it again in a heartbeat, mick."

The Irishman glared at his friend. Part of him just wanted to get into a fight because he hated how arrogant Daryl was right now.  
When he turned his head to see what his friend was looking at he was surprised to see Carl standing there.  
Connor and Daryl exchanged a quick glance and the Irishman sighed.

"I'm gonna go and put my stuff back in te tent" he murmured and headed back.

"Yeah, whatever" Daryl answered and glared at Carl.

The boy grinned when Connor passed him and ruffled his hair. The hunter had no idea why Rick's son would come to him, now that he saw that his friend was walking away. He had thought that the kid had come because of Connor, but that wasn't the case. Daryl looked at his bloody knuckles again. He tried flexing them and grunted when it hurt.

"Did it hurt to punch the guy?" Carl asked and Daryl looked up.

_Had the kid read his mind? Of course it hurt._

For a moment he had thought that he had managed to break them.  
He hated to admit that he was in pain, so he just shook his aching hands and looked at the kid.

"I've been hurt worse. You, too, buddy" he answered when he remembered that Carl had been shot just a couple of weeks ago.

Rick's son snorted and smiled. He came closer and pointed at Daryl's crossbow.

"Can you teach me how to shoot that?"

 _Oh right, now he knew why Carl had come to him_.

He had never really talked to the kid before, simply because he didn't know how to talk to kids. He had found the kid way too annoying anyway.  
Of course he would come because of the crossbow. He had seen how the kid had admired it from afar. Even back in Atlanta.

"Your arm ain't long enough" Daryl murmured and stroke his bruised knuckles absently.

Carl shook his head and showed him his arms.

"Yeah it is" he protested, being the stubborn child that he was.

It made the hunter snort.

"Stick to guns. It takes a lotta skill."

He was beginning to feel weird about the whole thing. He was pretty sure that Carl had got the wrong impression because of all his searching for Sophia. Daryl didn't like that Rick's son obviously believed that he liked kids because of it, but that wasn't true. He cursed himself for making Connor leave. The Irishman was way better at this. Simply because Carl obviously adored that freak. He heard footsteps coming from the farmhouse and turned his head to see who it was. Carol was coming to join them with things for his bruises in her hands.

"Where's your old man? Why don't you pester him?" the hunter asked Carl who rolled his eyes and turned around to leave.

Daryl got up and grabbed his crossbow when Carol came to a halt in front of him and handed him the medical supplies.

"Did you get what you wanted?" she asked and looked both disappointed and disgusted.

He turned around as if she was going to leave, but she just stood there and looked at him. Daryl grabbed the things and glared back at her.

"Approval? Thanks?"

The hunter didn't know what to say.

"Couldn't hit me, almost killed Connor, and now that you can't hit him anymore you beat up a kid, is that who you are now?"

Daryl looked down and growled. He _knew_ that he had almost hit her. He _knew_ that he had almost killed Connor, more than once. He hated her for bringing this up. As if he didn't feel guilty enough. The hunter wasn't proud of what he had done.

_Of course. But why wouldn't she get that he was trying to do the right thing this time? Why wouldn't anyone get that their prisoner wasn't a kid, that he was dangerous?_

"Ain't no kid. He'd do a lot worse than hittin' yah if you gave him a chance" he murmured and looked back at her.

"This isn't what this is about, and you know it" she responded.

It made him frown. He turned around to look at her properly.

"What do you want me to do? Huh?"

She just stood there and looked at him. And Daryl knew that she didn't have a clue either. He snorted and turned away again.

"I don't need this."

"Don't pretend like you don't care…You want your friendship back? Take it. Every kind and smart thing you've said, take it all back.  
Push everyone away. Connor, me, the group. Take your tent and move away from us. I don't care. I've lost worse. "

Daryl just stared at her.

"But don't sit back here and tend to your bloody fists…and pretend you don't care" she went on and turned around without waiting for an answer.

The hunter watched her leave and started rubbing his knuckles again. He didn't know how to react. He knew that Carol was right. The only problem was that he still didn't want to care. About anything. He didn't want to care about the torture and all the things they made him do now, and he sure as hell didn't want to care about Carol and Connor. Especially Connor. Caring only meant trouble. Sophia's death had shown him that all too clearly. Daryl sighed and sat back down to tend his knuckles. Thinking about all that stuff made him angry but in the end he came to the conclusion that she was right. He still believed that torturing the kid had been the right thing to do, but there was no need to keep pushing everyone away. They obviously cared about him, no matter what he did. And maybe it was time to accept that.

* * *

Connor was busy unpacking his stuff when he had to think about the kid again. How Daryl had beaten him up. He remembered what his friend had told him about his past and family. He was an abused child after all but that he could be _so_ violent... He knew that Daryl wasn't evil by nature. He had seen his good side. The redneck had gone looking for that little girl after all. He'd tried to cheer Carol up. He'd cut his rope and talked him out of suicide. He'd come back and saved him from the walkers. It had been Daryl who'd pulled him out of the car. But still. It had also been him who'd tortured the kid.

_What happened ta you? Yer an animal!_

Connor had seen him change. Twice. He remembered the first time he had seen Daryl. So pissed. So angry. So alone. Then he had changed for the better. He had opened himself up to him. He had let him be his friend. _And then Sophia had died._ And Daryl was turning into something else. Those people were abusing him as their wing man. Simply because they never looked past his Redneck attitude. He knew, no he _hoped_ to know, why Daryl was doing things like that now. Not because he enjoyed beating people but because he still wanted to be part of this group. Because he wanted to play a role in the group. People wouldn't take him seriously as leader although Connor knew that he was capable of that. So all that was left was to be their watchdog.

_And he had no idea how to change that or help him out of that._

He knew that people didn't take him seriously either. Because he was just Connor, the funny Irishman. The man with the guns. The saint. The newbie. _So all he could do was to be there for Daryl. Trying to keep him sane. On the good side._ Because he knew he was the only one who was capable of knew that Daryl had a soft spot for him by now. He also knew that his friend would never admit that.

* * *

Daryl returned two hours later and brought a doe with him. Connor snorted when he saw him and tried to help him with his prey.

"Nat a squirrel this time?" he teased him and Daryl snorted.

He laid the dead animal on the ground and looked at his friend. Connor didn't look so pissed any more.  
He was grinning and trying to help, and the hunter knew that it was a peace-offering. For now.

He smirked and nudged his friend.

"Screw yah, still haven't seen yah bring a single thing."

"Oh I will. Just ye wait. Need help with the preparation?"

They placed the doe by the fire and Daryl laughed.

"As if yah know how t' do stuff like this. Being from Boston and Ireland."

"Fuck you, I know how t'do this shit. I've worked in a meat packin plant!" Connor protested and searched for his knife.

"Yeah I bet" Daryl answered and knelt down next to the doe.

Connor growled.

"Sure did! You don't know shit about me."

They spent the entire morning preparing the doe and getting it ready for the evening.

Connor had just left the tent in which he'd gotten changed when they saw Dale heading for their camp. Daryl was busy sorting his arrows when he saw him, too.

"The whole point of me coming up here is to get away from you people" he murmured and Connor greeted the old man with a nod.

He sat down and started cleaning his guns.

"Gonna take more than that" Dale said which made Connor smirk.

"Carol send you?" Daryl growled.

"Carol's not the only one that's concerned about you, your new role in the group" the old man said and Connor nodded.

"Aye, that's true."

Daryl turned around and eyed his friend who shrugged.

"What? He's got a point there."

The hunter rolled his eyes and turned his back on them.

"Man, I don't need my head shrunk. This group's broken. I'm better off fending for myself."

"No ye ain't" Connor said and Daryl pointed an arrow at him.

"You keep your trap shut now or yah can go back t'the group."

The Irishman sighed and shrugged. He just grabbed a smoke and lit it with a growl.

"You act like you don't care" Dale noticed after a while and

Daryl looked at him.

"Yeah, it's cause I don't."

He grabbed his vest and put it back on.

_Why was everyone bringing that up now?_

"So live or die, you don't care what happens to Randall?"

"Nope."

"Then why not stand with me, try to save the kid's life, if it really doesn't matter one way or the other?"

"Didn't peg you for a desperate son of a bitch" Daryl murmured as he adjusted his vest.

Dale turned his head and looked at Connor then. The Irishman chewed on his lower lip and took another drag on his cigarette.

"What about you then, Connor. I take it you're a righteous man?"

Connor sighed and scratched his neck.

"Aye but Rick's got a point. His group's dangerous. I ain't sayin killing him is right but...lettin him run ain't good either. I...just..ah fuck it.  
I don' know what's right and what's wrong here anymore. What's te difference. Rick's got the say here. And they ain't listenin ta us anyway."

"Your opinion makes a difference."

Connor just looked at Dale for a while until they heard Daryl snort.

"Man, ain't nobody looking at me for nothing."

"I do" the Irishman said and his friend glared at him.

"Yeah cos I look like your stupid brother."

When Connor was just about to say something Dale interrupted him.

"Carol is, and I am. Right now. And you obviously- you have Rick's ear."

Daryl turned around because of this and frowned angrily.

"Rick just looks to Shane. Let him."

He grabbed his crossbow and turned around to leave when Dale wouldn't let it go.

"You cared about what happened to Sophia."

Connor looked up then as Daryl turned around again and just stared at Dale.

He knew that mentioning the little girl wasn't a good thing to do when his friend was around but the old man was right.  
It was the only way to stop Daryl from running away again.

"Cared what it meant to the group. _Torturing_ people? That isn't you. You're a decent man. So is Rick. Shane - He's different."

The Irishman was surprised to hear Dale say something like that. And he'd thought he was the only one who saw that there was more to Daryl than most people believed. He looked at his friend and nodded.

"He's right man. You've changed. And nat fer te better. We're worried about ye."

Daryl rolled his eyes and ignored Connor. He looked at Dale instead.

"Why is that? Cause he killed Otis?"

The old man looked at him in surprise as Daryl approached him.

"He tell you that?" Dale asked and Daryl snorted.

"He told us some story...How Otis covered him, saved his ass. He showed up with the dead guy's gun. Rick ain't stupid.  
If he didn't figure that out, it's cause he didn't wanna. It's like I said. Group's broken."

He turned around and left this time. Connor and Dale just looked after him for a while until the old man looked at the Irishman.

"You cannot tell me you're alright with this."

Connor sighed.

"I honestly ain't. If he were guilty I'd put a bullet ta his head without missing a heartbeat. No matter what Rick says.  
Just... we don't know if he did shit just like the other members af his group. It's a tough decision that. Especially nowadays Dale."

"I thought you did everything you could to protect the innocent back in the old days. I mean they didn't call you a saint for nothing, did they?"

Connor looked at Dale then and frowned.

"Don't pull that on me."

"But we are talking about a man's life here!You might be the only one left in this group that knows what's right and human! You're a man of god!"

The Irishman got up then.

"Ye know what I did Dale? I killed a few people to prevent death af many, _countless_ innocent people. Maybe that's just like that now. Maybe we need ta kill one person ta save the life af te many. I mean ye heard what he told us. It's 30 people, with guns and they're rapists and they kill people fer the fun af it. Maybe we have ta look past his innocence this time to save our lives!"

Dale looked at Connor in shock, who was just as surprised.

The Irishman sighed and sat down again.

"Why are you askin me anyway."

"Because I want to change Rick's mind. He gave me time to talk to the group. We're having a vote later this afternoon. So please, I'm begging you. You're a man of god. You've read the bible more than once. You know what it says. Please help me save this kid's life?"

The Irishman looked at Dale for a very long while and then sighed.

"I'll think about it."

"Thank you. And please talk to Daryl as well. You're the only one he listens to."

Connor snorted.

"He doesn't do shit."


	29. Discussion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chap! Sorry about the pretty much 1:1 description & dialogue of the last scene in this chapter.  
> It just felt necessary and I tried to include Connor but it was rather hard.
> 
>  **setting:** episode 11 " _Judge, Jury, Executioner_ "

Daryl came back to the camp after a while. Connor was still sitting by the campfire when he saw his friend.  
When Daryl put his crossbow away and wouldn't speak the Irishman turned around and looked at him.

"Where te fuck were ye?"

The hunter snorted.

"What, are yah my mum now? Since when do I need t'tell yah everything."

Connor rolled his eyes and turned around.

"Aren't ye a fuckin sissy with all yer ups an downs. How 'bout you finally make a decision."

"On what?"

"Whether you can stand me or nat. Seriously yer worse than a girl with yer moods."

The hunter stared at his friend's back for a while and then came to join him.

"Went to check for walkers. I've noticed that there's more. They're getting closer."

Connor looked at him and frowned.

"Ye mean they sense we're here? Well, doesn't really surprise me ta be honest. Back in Boston they always knew where me and Murph were hiding."

Daryl shrugged.

"Looks like those filthy lowlives are gettin smarter. Maybe the gunfire from two days ago attracted 'em."

"Well that's shite."

"Yep" the hunter said and got up to check on his motorbike.

"I guess we shouldn't put our guns away now."

Connor smirked and loaded his two guns.

"Aye. Call me paranoid, but I'm never doing that anyway."

Daryl frowned when he searched the bag on his bike but didn't find his gun.

"Did yah go through my stuff? Fuckin get yer mits off my bike!"

Connor frowned.

"Are ye fuckin kidding me? I'd never touch yer worthless trash!"

Daryl let go of his bag and approached his friend. He shoved him and grabbed his bag to search it.

"Don't fuck with me. I know yah took it! Who else would've done it, yer the only one that's been here!"

Connor got up and shoved Daryl too.

"Fuck ye! I didn't fuckin touch yer stuff! What are ye talking bout anyway?"

"My gun, that's what I'm talkin 'bout! Now give it back, I'm not kiddin yah!"

The Irishman frowned.

"I swear ta god I didn't take it. Why would I, I've got me own guns!"

"Then who did, smartass, cos it ain't here!"

Daryl searched the tent and his bags but couldn't find the gun. Connor did the same.

"I mean yah were here all the time, weren't yah?"

The Irishman shook his head.

"No I wasn't. I was with te group fer a bit because I was bored."

Daryl growled. "Well fuck yah very much. Now we've got no idea who took my gun!"

"Fuck you, now it's my fault? Yer the one who grabbed his stuff and went away, maybe you just lost it!"

The hunter shook his head angrily and searched his bags once more. He startled when something nudged his shoulder.

"Here take that then til ye find it."

Daryl turned around and frowned. Connor was standing there in front of him, with a gun in his hand.

"I don't need yer charity" he growled and Connor rolled his eyes.

He offered him the gun once more.

"Fuckin take it anyway, don't be such a princess. You just said we need our guns now."

"Don't yah need it yerself t' protect yer whiny ass?"

The Irishman snorted.

"I've got three more."

Daryl took the gun reluctantly and looked at it.

"Please don't fuckin say it's yer brother's."

Connor chuckled.

"As if I'd give _you_ stupid asshole me brother's gun. No. It's mine. Don't fuckin lose this one."

"I won't" Daryl murmured and the Irishman sat down again with a satisfied grin on his face.

"Now we need ta talk snotface."

"Did yah just give me the gun so I can shoot yer face off because of this stupid nickname?"

Connor laughed and grabbed two smokes. He offered Daryl one. The hunter sat down opposite him and took it.

"What fuckin ever. I need ta talk to you about te boy."

Daryl rolled his eyes.

"Oh don't fuckin start with this crap again. Did that old dumbass manage t'brainwash yah?"

"No he didn't but I think he's right. I did some thinking while you were gone. I think he's got a fair point.  
And if Rick really wants ta hear everyone's thoughts on it then I wanna make sure we're on te same side here."

Daryl snorted.

"Why would we."

"Cos we're a fucking team."

The hunter snorted and leaned back.

"We're not. I'm a loner. I don't need yah. Or anyone."

"Yeah af course. I think we're past yer stupid schtick now. Anyways, I think we should side with Dale."

"No way."

"And why's that? Cos ye think you need ta kill him so you can be the tough one? So everyone can look at ye and go "woh look at that evil motherfucker".  
Yer fuckin brother's dead. And you ain't impressing anyone with yer stupid dickish "kill 'em an beat 'em up" behavior. Just makes yah look like a dick."

"Shut up!" Daryl spat and eyed Connor angrily.

"Then tell me one good reason why ye think we should kill 'im. If yer right then I'm on yer side..just...fuck it. I want you to be right. But Dale's also right."

"Yah want one good reason?" the hunter shouted and his friend nodded.

"Fuckin aye I do!"

"Just think about it, you stupid clown! If yah had a group of 30 strong tough guys with guns and shit and somebody took you hostage, tortured yah, beat the shit outta yah and threatens t'kill yah and ye were givin the chance t'run back to yer people, what's the first thing you'd do? And by that I don' mean a guy with yer stupid brain, but a kid like 'im. Everyone'd run for their people and tell 'em. Everyone'd want revenge for something like we did t'him! I mean if we let him free and spare 'im shit like that's destined t'happen!"

Connor glared at him but didn't say anything.

"I mean seriously. It's bout time yah wake up to this world. Yer morality and faith, believin in good, it'll kill yah.  
Might've been worth something back in the old days, ain't worth shit now."

Daryl threw his cigarette away and shook his head angrily.

"Yah can think or vote on whatever yah want man, but ain't got nothin t'do with me. I think we have to kill the guy. Cos if they let 'im run and his people start slaughtering us that blood ain't on my hands but yers and Dale's. Just...use yer stupid brain for once and not yer bible shit."

Connor looked at his friend for a while.

"I don' know if I can fucking do that" he said and was surprised how honest he was.

Because he knew Daryl was _right._ He knew that if they wanted to survive they needed to kill the boy.

But killing a human being that might be innocent? It was _wrong_. In this world it was _right_ to do something _wrong_. Survival meant doing immoral things. And doing immoral things meant going to _hell._

_Murph I'll never fuckin see ye again._

"Yeah looks like you've gotta" Daryl murmured.

"We could always leave" Connor said and Daryl looked up in surprise.

For a while they just stared at each other. Somehow considering the possibility.  
And the hunter knew that if he was ever going to leave it would be with that man. But not now.

Not yet.

"Seen yah crippled leg lately? Yah wouldn't last a minute out there."

Connor snorted.

"Fuck ye, sure would."

"Yeah and if yah do get eaten then that'd be on me."

"No then it would be me own fault."

"Fuckin shut it. It ain't safe, Connor. Not yet."

The Irishman smirked. After a moment he leaned back and sighed.

"So what's te deal then?"

Daryl snorted and shrugged.

"Yah tell me."

The Irishman looked at his friend for a while and then swallowed.

"Yer right. I mean god'll condemn me ta hell fer this, but good lord yer right."

* * *

Later that afternoon the group gathered inside the farmhouse to discuss Randall's fate.  
Little Carl stood right next to Connor who sat on a chair because he still had trouble standing more than a couple of minutes because of his leg.

"Come on Carl. I want you to stay with Jimmy" Lori said then and everyone looked at the boy.

"But I wanna listen" he protested, but his mother shook her head.

"Not this time. Come on" she insisted but the boy wouldn't move.

Everyone kept staring at him, even Daryl, and when Carl wouldn't move Connor nudged him.

"Come on now, little fella. Listen ta yer Ma fer once."

The boy looked at the Irishman who pointed at the door. Carl growled and left.  
When Connor grinned at Daryl the latter just rolled his eyes and looked away.

"So how do we do this? Just take a vote?" Glenn asked after a moment.

"Does it have to be unanimous?"

"How about majority rules?"

Andrea and Lori joined in. Rick raised his hand to soothe them.

"Well let's ...let's just see where everybody stands, then we can talk through options."

"Well, the way I see it,there's only one way to move forward" Shane said which made both Connor and Daryl roll their eyes.

_Of course he'd speak first._

"Killing him, right? I mean why even bother to even take a vote? It's clear which way the wind's blowing." Dale said.

One could hear how disappointed he was. So all of his actions hadn't been of much use then.

"Well if people believe we should spare him I wanna know" Rick interrupted him.

"Well I can tell you it's a small group-Maybe just me, Connor and Glenn."

Connor and Glenn looked up then and eyed Dale in surprise.

"Look I- I think you're pretty much right about everything, all the time, but this.." Glenn stammered and Dale snorted angrily.

"They've got you scared."

"He's not one of us. And we've lost too many people already" Glenn countered and Dale turned to look at Connor.

"What about you, Connor?"

The Irishman sighed.

"Well just like Glenn said. Yer right. It isn't right ta kill him but being right here means dying. They've got a point.  
We can't risk 'im runnin off and tellin his people about us. He might not be dangerous but his people are."

Dale shook his head and looked at Herschel and Maggie.

"How about you? Do you agree with this?"

Herschel looked down and Maggie chewed on her lower lip.

"Couldn't we continue keeping him prisoner?" she suggested.

"Just another mouth to feed" Daryl said quietly which made Connor look at him.

"It may be a lean winter" Herschel joined in.

"We could ration better" Lori suggested and Dale growled angrily.

"Well he could be an asset! Give him a chance to prove himself" he demanded and looked at everyone.

"Put him to work?" Glenn asked with a frown but Rick interrupted him.

"We're not letting him walk around."

"We could put an escort on him" Maggie responded and Shane snorted.

"Who wants to volunteer for that duty?"

"I will" Dale said and Connor had enough.

"Me, too" he joined in and everyone looked at him.

Dale looked thankful. When Connor looked at Daryl and tried to get him into volunteering as well his friend looked away.  
The Irishman's face fell.

" I don't think any of us should be walking around with this guy" Rick said and looked at Connor.

"Besides. You're injured. He could take advantage of that. He could outrun you. And Dale."

"He's right. I wouldn't feel safe unless he was tied up" Lori said to support her husband.

"We can't exactly put chains around his ankles sentence him to hard labor" Andrea joined the discussion and shook her head angrily.

Shane moved next to her.

"Look, say we let him join us, right? Maybe he's helpful, maybe he's nice. We let our guard down and maybe he runs off.  
Brings back his 30 men."

Daryl shook his head. No matter how right Shane was with his assumption he still found it incredibly ridiculous how distrustful the policeman was.

_Coming from someone who betrayed a good man._

"So the answer is to kill him to prevent a crime that he may never even attempt? If we do this, we're saying there's no hope. Rule of law is dead. There is no civilization."

Dale looked at them in disbelief. Especially Connor reacted to those words. Because he'd been a man of morality. He had tried to get people into sticking to rule of law.  
For years. And now even he was turning his back on that? He was beginning to doubt everything all over again.

"Oh, my god" Shane muttered and turned away.

"Could you drive him further out? Leave him like you planned?" Herschel asked and looked at Rick.

Lori shook her head and grabbed her necklace nervously.

"You barely came back this time. There 's walkers. You could break down. You could get lost."

"Or get ambushed" Daryl added and Connor looked at him again.

Right now, if just for a moment, he hated his friend for everything he said that supported the idea of just executing the kid.

"They're right. We should not put our own people at risk" Glenn said which snapped Connor out of it.

"If you go through with it, how would you do it? Would he suffer?" Patricia, Otis wife, who hadn't said a word before, joined in.

"We could hang him, right? Just snap his neck" Shane said with a shrug and Connor snorted.

"Aye cos that ain't suffering" he said as he remembered his suicide attempt and how much the rope had hurt.

"Yeah by hanging I mean properly dude. _I'm_ gonna make sure it snaps his neck. I'm gonna do it right."

"How fuckin dare ye..." Connor snapped but was interrupted by Daryl who placed a hand on his shoulder and held him back.

"Now's not the time, idiot" he said and Connor growled but stopped.

"I thought about that. Shooting may be more humane" Rick said and ignored Shane and Connor's scuffle.

"And what about the body? Do we bury him?" T-Dog asked when Dale raised his hands.

"Hold on, hold on! You're talking about this like it's already decided."

"You've been talking all day, going around in circles. You just wanna go around in circles again?" Daryl said with a frown.

"This is a young man's life. And it's worth more than a five minute conversation!" Dale spat and looked at them.

"Is this what it's come to? We kill someone because we can't decide what else to do with him? You saved him and now look at us.  
He's been tortured. He's gonna be executed. How are we any better than those people that we're so afraid of?"

Everyone looked down for a moment. Dale's words made them feel ashamed of themselves.

"We all know what needs to be done" Shane said and Rick shook his head.

"No, Dale is right. We can't leave any stone unturned. We have a responsibility..."

"So what's the other solution?" Andrea interrupted him and Lori looked at her in surprise.

"Let Rick finish" she demanded but Andrea ignored her.

" We haven't come up with a single viable option yet. I wish we could..."

"So let's work on it!" Dale spat and Rick finally lost it too.

"We are!"

"Guys maybe ye just should..." Connor joined in but was interrupted by Carol.

"Stop it. Just stop it. I'm sick of everybody arguing and fighting. I didn't ask for this. You can't ask us to decide something like this.  
Please decide, either of you, both of you... But leave me out."

"We must all fear evil men. But there's another kind af evil which we must fear most, and tha is the indifference af good men" Connor quoted and everyone looked at him with a frown.

"That's what our monsignor in Boston once said in church" he said and looked at Daryl for a moment, then at his hand, and then he turned his head to look at Carol.

Dale nodded.

"Not speaking out. Or killing him yourself.. There's no difference."

"All right, that's enough. Anybody who wants the floor before we make a final decision has the chance" Rick said but nobody answered or left.

They all just stared.

"You once said that we don't kill the living" Dale said after a moment.

His voice was shaking by now.

"Well, that was before the living tried to kill us" Rick said angrily and Dale snorted.

"But don't you see? If we do this, the people that we were... The world that we knew is dead."

He was fumbling with his hat and there were tears in his eyes. And the more he spoke the more Connor was beginning to doubt everything.  
His and Daryl's decision. His morality. His actions. His past. His humanity.

"And this new world is ugly. It's- Harsh. It's- it's survival of the fittest. And that's a world I don't wanna live in. And I don't-I don't believe that any of you do."

And Connor remembered why he had tried to take his life a couple of weeks ago.

_Because it's ugly. Because it's harsh.  
Because I'm alone. Because Murph's dead. That's a world I don't wanna live in._

"I can't. Let's just do what's right. Isn't there anybody else who's gonna stand with me?"

Connor chewed on his lower lip and looked at Daryl then. They both looked at each other and Daryl shook his head angrily.

"Yer right. Killing him ain't the solution" the Irishman said and Daryl snorted.

"He's right. We should try to find another way" Andrea said with a nod.

"Anybody else?" Rick asked but no one answered.

Dale snorted and sniffed.

"Are y'all gonna watch, too?" Nobody said anything.

"No, you'll go hide your heads in your tents and try to forget that we're slaughtering a human being. I won't be a party to it" he retorted and headed for the door.

Before he left he placed a hand on Daryl's shoulder.

"This group _is_ broken" he said and left.


	30. Forgiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 11 " _Judge, Jury, Executioner_ "

They left the farmhouse after the discussion. The decision had been made. They were going to execute Randall by the end of the day.  
Once Connor was outside he waited by the door. Rick was still busy talking to Herschel but the Irishman needed to get something off his chest.  
Daryl left the farmhouse just after Andrea. He snorted when he saw Connor.

"So much for being a team" he murmured and Connor looked at him for a moment.

"Dale's right. We should do what's right. Not what's best. What's te point in surviving if we're actin like animals. How are we any better than the walkers then? Might as well become one."

Daryl shook his head and snorted.

"Yer stupid. Naive."

"Better than some murderer who can shoot a kid in cold blood."

"Says the guy who murdered 22 people."

Both men stared at each other for a while. Connor shook his head.

"I thought we were on te same page, man" he muttered after a while and Daryl shrugged.

"Looks like we ain't. I mean don't blame me. Yer the one who changed his mind."

"Cos Dale's fuckin right man. I mean, fuck. Look at us."

Daryl growled.

"It's just a fuckin kid, we don't even know him! Besides, his group left 'im. Ain't nobody gonna miss him. Or mourn him. It's not like life's of so much value anyways. If yah ask me, we're doing the kid a favor. He'll die a painless death. Better than gettin torn t'shreds by walkers sooner or later. Cos that's all there is."

"Well aren't yah a little sunshine" Connor murmured and took another drag on his cigarette.

"What. Somebody needs t'say it."

Connor snorted and looked away.

"I wish I'd known shit like this would happen."

"Why, 's not like yah could do anything bout it."

"No, but I would've pulled te fuckin trigger in the car."

Daryl shoved him hard and pinned him against the wall of the farmhouse.

"Don't yah fuckin _dare_ say somethin like that."

Connor looked at him in surprise and when his friend let go of him he took a deep breath. Daryl glared at him and clenched his fist.

"I didn't save yer worthless life just so that yah can throw it away again. Just think about killing yerself and I'll kill yah twice for it."

He turned around to leave and Connor growled.

"Sometimes I fucking hate yah, ye stupid asshole!" he spat and Daryl flashed him his finger as he left.

Connor snorted and grabbed a smoke.

"Prick" he murmured and waited for Rick to come outside.

The policeman stepped out of the farmhouse when Connor had just finished his smoke.

He followed him down the stairs.

"Eh Rick, I need ta talk to you" he said and Rick sighed.

"Not now Connor. I'm busy. I need to talk to Daryl. Have you seen him?"

"I dunno, he ran off. Listen, it's about te kid."

"The decision's been made Connor. We had a vote, you and Dale lost. We need to take care of it now."

"I know. I mean it's tough shit man..just.. I wanna do it."

Rick stopped and turned around to look at Connor with a frown.

"What?"

"I want ta shoot te kid" the Irishman repeated and the policeman looked at him questioningly.

"I thought you were against his execution."

"Aye. I still am. But I have ta accept yer decision. And his group's still dangerous. I've accepted that I'm going ta hell. In the end we all are.  
I just..wanna make sure te kid's forgiven. I wanna do it my way. Give him to the lord. It's the least I can do."

"I appreciate your concern but I'm sorry. I brought him here, so I have to end it."

Rick turned around to leave but Connor wouldn't leave it.

"Please Rick? I'm fuckin begging you."

He turned around again and looked at the Irishman.

"I couldn't live with this otherwise. It's fuckin murder after all. I couldn't live with myself knowing I just watched and did _nothing_ about it. It would kill me."

They both looked at each other for a while and Rick took a deep breath.

"Okay" he said quietly and left.

* * *

Rick, Shane, Connor and Daryl headed for the barn so they could execute Randall inside. Daryl held their prisoner by his collar and made sure he couldn't run off. He looked at his friend from time to time. He was surprised that Connor was with them.

"Hold on. Hold on. Hold on" Randall stammered but they ignored him.

"Rick, you sure about this?" Shane said and Rick nodded.

"I am."

"But he's got nothing t'do with it. Don't yah think I should do it if yah can't?"

"Believe me, I can. But this is between me and Connor."

Daryl frowned.

"What are yah two hotheads talkin bout?"

Shane and Rick didn't answer so he looked at the Irishman.

"Connor?"

But he didn't answer as well. He was busy loading his gun and it looked like he was ignoring Daryl on purpose.

They entered the barn and Randall got even more nervous.

"Wait. Wait. Wait!" he begged and Rick eyed Connor who nodded after a moment.

"Put him there" the policeman demanded and Daryl placed Randall in the middle of the barn.

"Oh, hey-hey!" the kid protested when Shane blindfolded him.

"It's all gonna be over soon" he murmured as he tried to calm their prisoner down.

"What? What's gonna be over soon?" Randall asked and tried to fight the blindfold.

"Relax" Shane demanded and Randall started panicking when he heard Connor's gun click.

"Hey-hey. No, no no no no."

Shane hushed him but he kept whimpering and begging.

Rick looked at Connor who took a deep breath and signaled that he was ready.

"Would you like to stand or kneel?" the policeman asked and Randall started crying.

"Oh , no, please. Please.."

All his crying and begging made Daryl angry. He just wanted it to end so he kicked him. The kid fell down to his knees.

He was a shaking and sobbing mess.

"Do you have any final words?" Rick went on and he cried even more.

"No, please. Please don't. Don't" he begged and Rick sighed.

He looked at Connor and nodded. The Irishman looked at Daryl then.

_It's yer fucking fault I'm doing this now._

"It's okay fella. You shall be forgiven. I'll make sure af that" Connor said then and looked at their blindfolded hostage.

He swallowed and undid the safety of his gun. He placed it on Randall's forehead and took a deep breath.

"And shepherds we shall be..." he began to pray and Shane rolled his eyes.

Rick just stared at Randall and Daryl watched his friend. He could tell that Connor was fighting hard to stay strong.  
He knew that everything he did right now went against his beliefs, but it needed to be done.

"For thee my lord for thee. Power hath descended forth from thy hand..." Randall started crying all over again as he begged for his life.

Connor stopped for a moment and looked at the trembling kid.

"Come on now. End it, buddy" Shane said and Connor gritted his teeth.

"Our feet may swiftly carry out thy commands. So we shall flow a river forth to thee..." the Irishman looked up and stared at Daryl for a moment.

After a while the latter nodded.

"And teeming with souls shall it ever be...In Nomine Patris et.."

"Do it" they heard someone say and turned around in surprise.

Standing there, by the door, was little Carl. He just stared at Connor and the gun and nodded.

"Do it" he said again and Shane growled.

"Are you kidding me? What'd I say to you?"

He grabbed Carl by his shoulder and tried to get him out of the barn.

"What did I say to you?" he repeated and nudged Carl angrily.

"Et.. et Filii..." Connor went on when Rick interrupted him.

"Stop it" he said and Connor turned around.

Daryl looked at Rick in surprise.

Shane and Carl stopped walking.

"Take him away" Rick demanded.

He looked so shocked all of a sudden. So surprised. So horrified.

Connor secured his gun and lowered it.

Randall gasped and sobbed in relief.

"Take him away" Rick repeated and Daryl growled angrily.

He grabbed Randall by his collar.

"Get up" he muttered and lifted him up.

Randall was still a sobbing mess. They both left the barn right after Carl and Shane. Connor just stared at the spot where Randall had just been kneeling in front of him. He noticed that he was actually shaking. He was _relieved._ He looked at Rick who still stood there. Petrified.

"You alright?"

Rick kept staring for a moment and then looked up.

"I want you and Daryl to watch Randall. Don't do anything. Wait for my orders. Just..keep watch. I need to talk to Carl" he murmured and left as well.

Connor stayed for a moment and stared at the gun in his hands. He couldn't believe that he had almost shot a boy who might be innocent. He put the gun away and placed his hands on his head. The Irishman pulled his hair and took a deep breath. He started laughing nervously and looked up at the ceiling. He couldn't believe that the kid was still alive. He couldn't believe that he didn't have to pull the trigger. He sighed and closed his eyes.

_Thank you god. Thank ye fer not condemning me ta hell._

_Thank you._

And for the first time, in a very long time, he believed that god was still watching over him.


	31. Angel Of Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that one Daryl scene that lasted about 2 secs in the episodes inspired an entire chapter. :D  
> It was confirmed in Talking Dead that Daryl was about to gut Randall when he heard Dale's screams. So I made this little scene one great big topic in this chapter because I thought it would be nice to have Connaryl discuss this. I think it turned out rather nice. Oh and did you notice that whenever Murphy turns up someone's about to get hurt or die? That's why this chapter is called Angel of Death. He. He. He. So that's it then. End of "Judge. Jury. Executioner." Two more episodes to go and the fic's over!
> 
>  **setting:** episode 11 " _Judge, Jury, Executioner_ "

Connor found Daryl inside the shed they kept Randall in. His friend had his back turned on him and was busy doing something by the table.  
The Irishman leaned against the door frame and folded his arms.

"Looks like Dale gets what he wants" he said and looked at Daryl who didn't answer.

Connor sighed.

"Look, I know it's not what you want but let's just think bout it fer a minute. I know yer a good guy. I think it's god's will ta keep te fella alive."

Daryl snorted and shook his head.

"What, didn't it occur to you? I mean why would Rick's kid decide ta come just when I'm about ta finish him off?"

"Cos his bitch mother is dumb and busy fuckin everyone up instead of watching the brat" the hunter muttered and Connor snickered.

"Aye, I give ye that. But still."

The Irishman looked at Randall for a moment and frowned. Daryl had tied him up with his hands up in the air and a gag in his mouth.

"Why did ye tie the kid up like that?"

"Can I ask yah something?" Daryl asked and leaned against the table.

He still wouldn't look at his friend. Connor frowned.

"Sure, man."

"Rick or me, whose side are yah on?"

"Regarding what?"

Daryl sighed.

"If Rick an I were in an argument, who'd you side with?"

Connor frowned even more.

"Depends on who's right?"

Daryl snorted angrily.

"What if it were Murphy instead of me, who'd yah side with?"

The Irishman swallowed and looked away.

"Ye can't ask me something like that."

"Tell me."

"I'd try ta protect Murph" he said quietly.

His friend shook his head and snorted once more.

"Forget it" he said and grabbed something that was lying on the table.

Connor growled.

"Oh stop it. I love ye like a brother, man. But that's fuckin murder."

Daryl turned around then and his friend saw the bowie knife in his hands. He widened his eyes.

"What te fuck are ye doing?"

Daryl looked at Randall who started whimpering and murmuring something but they couldn't understand him because of the gag.

"Rick doesn't have the guts t'finish it...someone's gotta do it."

Connor approached Daryl slowly and kept looking at the knife.

"Put the fuckin knife away, Murph. Rick said we have t'wait fer his orders."

Daryl snorted.

"You know he ain't gonna do it. Ever."

"I fuckin know but I don' want him ta! Neither do I fuckin want you to do some shit like that! It is fuckin _murder_!" Connor spat but his friend ignored him.

He eyed Randall instead and approached him even more.

"Put the fuckin knife down!" the Irishman demanded and Daryl shook his head.

"It's either him or us."

Suddenly Connor pulled his gun and pointed it at his friend. Daryl turned his head and looked at him. He raised an eyebrow.

"What, so now yer gonna shoot me? Just so yah can protect this scumbag? A kid yah don' even know?"

"Just put the fuckin knife down and wait fer the group's decision."

Daryl grabbed his gun and pointed it at Connor.

"No, how bout you put yer gun down and let me finish it."

Connor snorted.

"This is getting fuckin ridiculous."

"Says the idiot who pointed the gun at me first."

"Don't you fuckin _dare_ point _my_ gun at me."

Daryl didn't move and neither did Connor.  
They just stared at each other.

"So what's it gonna be? Are yah really gonna bite the dust for this little shit?" Daryl asked and the Irishman snorted.

"As if ye'd fuckin shoot me."

Daryl shrugged.

"Try me."

"Just put the knife and the gun down, man. Or shoot me if yer that desperate and fucked up, asshole."

The hunter snorted.

"I'm done fuckin yah up. Question is, are _you_?"

Connor frowned.

"What te fuck's that supposed ta mean?"  
"Not the first time you're pointing yer gun at a face just like mine and pull the trigger, right?"

The Irishman gave Daryl a death glare. For a moment the latter thought that his friend would actually pull the trigger because of that, but much to his surprise Connor lowered his gun and shook his head.

"Fuck you. Bastard. I ain't gonna lower meself to yer level."

He put his gun away and so did Daryl. Randall whimpered again when the hunter wouldn't let go of the knife and pointed it at his heart instead.  
Suddenly Connor growled and darted forward. He knocked Daryl down and they both fell to the ground. They started fighting over the knife.

"You ain't fuckin killing the kid as long as I'm around! Now gimme the fuckin knife and stop being such a dick!" Connor spat and Daryl growled.

He managed to grab a wooden plank, which was lying on the floor next to them, and hit his friend's head hard. The Irishman stopped moving and collapsed on top of him. For a moment Daryl just lay there and tried to catch his breath. He was panting heavily and after a while of gathering himself he grabbed unconscious Connor by his shoulders and lifted him off himself. He turned his friend on his back and checked his breathing and pulse. He thanked god that he hadn't managed to kill the Irishman with the board. He patted Connor's cheek and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry brother. It's for yer best. I'm doing it for the group" he said and sighed.

He hated himself for hurting his friend _once more._

Daryl got up with a grunt and searched for his knife. He found it on the floor and when he looked at Randall the kid started screaming and whimpering again. But no one could hear his screams because of the gag. Not even Connor could hear him now.

"Just you and me, kiddo" he said when he approached Randall and grabbed the lantern that stood on the table.

Randall screamed even louder but Daryl shook his head.

"Shut up. No one can hear yah now."

When he was just about to stab Randall in his chest he could hear Dale screaming outside.  
He placed the lantern back on the table and started running.

* * *

"Eh, sleepyhead."

Connor growled and shook his head when he felt how someone started shaking him.

"Eh sleeping beauty, are ye waitin fer some fuckin prince ta kiss you awake?"

The Irishman chuckled.

"What, now yer calling yerself a fuckin _prince?_ I thought we were done role-playing Murph" he muttered and placed a hand on his twin's.

"Get up now Con. Yer fuckin done sleeping."

Connor chuckled and shook his head. He didn't want to open his eyes because he feared that he might wake up from the dream then.

"No I'm waiting fer you ta gimme a big fat whiskey and cig soaked kiss ta wake me up."

He heard how his twin chuckled as well.

"Is that really you Murph?" Connor asked after a moment.

"Aye. I ain't te redneck. I'm disappointed brother. I thought you know me."

"I fuckin know _everything_ ' bout ye brother. Every last dirty detail."

"Con, you need ta get up now."

"Am I dead? Did that fucker kill me? Is that heaven?" Connor murmured.

Murphy laughed and shook him once more.

"No, you ain't dead brother. You're gonna know when yer dead."

"Is that another one of tem dreams Murphy?"

His brother didn't answer so he opened his eyes.

"Murph?"

There was no one there. He found himself lying on the floor inside the shed. The Irishman turned his head with a groan and placed a hand on his throbbing temple. The headache was killing him. Connor tried to sit up. He looked up to see that Randall was still alive. His heart missed a beat when he heard Daryl screaming outside.

"Help! Over here! Over here!"

"MURPH!" he screamed at the top of his lungs and got up.

He gasped in pain when his injured leg gave in. He tried to run to help his friend but couldn't. He ended up half limping half running outside.

"Murph! Where the fuck are ye! Murph!" he screamed and turned his head when he heard more voices to his left.

Connor saw the group standing somewhere in the middle of the field and tried to run for them.

"No no no no no!" he shouted with every step he made.

The Irishman ignored the incredible pain in his leg and started running.

_Oh Christ He's dead. Please don't let 'im be dead. Please don't let me lose another brother._

It felt like he was running forever until he finally reached the group.

"Murph!" he shouted again and looked at the group in panic until he saw Daryl standing there. Not hurt. No bites.

Just staring.

He came over to join his friend and punched his shoulder.

"Are ye insane! You scared the fuckin shit outta me!"

He checked his friend's chest and grabbed his arms to make sure that there weren't any bite marks. Daryl slapped his hands away and just kept staring down. Connor finally noticed the rest of the group. "Can we move him?" Rick asked with shaking voice. Then he heard Andrea's sobs. When the Irishman turned around to look at them he saw why they were crying and sobbing. Dale was lying there on the ground. Groaning and gasping in pain. His belly was ripped open and his guts were hanging out of the wound. Connor gasped in shock and stumbled backwards.

"Oh my fuckin...god..Christ..no.." he stammered and grabbed Daryl by his shoulder.

"He won't make the trip" Herschel said and Rick shook his head in panic.

"You have to do the operation here" he stammered and swallowed.

He turned around and looked at Glenn.

"Glenn, get back to the house" he demanded but Herschel interrupted him.

"Rick" he said and when the policeman looked up and Herschel shook his head, he got up and screamed.

"No!"

"Oh god." Andrea sobbed and everybody started crying.

Connor just stared at Dale in shock. There was so much blood. Blood and guts everywhere.

_What te fuck happened? Are ye still there god? I just started believing in yer mercy again an now this?_

He turned around to check on their surroundings. Somehow trying to understand what had happened. He saw a mutilated cow just a couple of meters away and right between Dale and the animal lay a walker. There was blood all over his face and hands and Connor knew. So Dale had been attacked by a walker. Ripped open _like a cow._

"Christ, why didn't anybody watch his back? Why would he leave all on his own?" he asked quietly and heard Daryl murmuring something.

And it dawned on him.

_The world that we knew is dead. And this new world is ugly. It's- Harsh. It's- it's survival of the fittest. And that's a world I don't wanna live in._  
And I don't-I don't believe that any of you do. I can't. He couldn't be with the group after their decision.  
After everything they'd said to him. 

It made Connor furious. The incredibly heartbreaking irony. The moment they'd spared the kids life had also been the moment Dale had been sentenced to death. Not knowing that his words changed the group's mind. Not knowing that there was still hope. That god was watching over them. _But was he? If he still was, how could he let anything like this happen?_

"He's suffering" Andrea whispered and took Dale's hand.

He was still groaning and gasping and pain. He stared at them with wide eyes. Somehow begging to be killed.

"Do something!" Andrea shouted and looked at them.

Rick sighed and tried to pull himself together. Everyone was still crying or fighting tears. They were shaken to the core. Rick knelt down next to Dale and pointed the gun at the old man's head. But when they saw how his gun started shaking in his hands and how he kept breathing hard and abruptly they knew that the policeman couldn't do it. Didn't _want_ to do it. Didn't want to see Dale die. Connor placed his hand on his gun and was just about to take it when Daryl placed his hand on it and signaled him to stop it. Connor looked at his friend in surprise but Daryl didn't look at him. He just looked at Dale and Rick. The Irishman understood and let go of his gun. His friend approached Rick and put his hand on the policeman's revolver. Rick looked up. After a moment he backed off and Daryl grabbed his gun. Connor's gun. He aimed at Dale's forehead and everyone started crying even more.

Connor started chewing on his lower lip and fought tears as well. Not only because of Dale's sad death but also because Daryl looked _so much_ like his dead brother with the gun in his hand. _Say the prayer, Murph,_ he thought but knew that he wasn't going to hear it. Because Daryl didn't know their family prayer. The hunter undid the safety of the gun and for a moment it looked like Dale was nodding.

"I'm sorry brother" Daryl said and pulled the trigger.


	32. Farewell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chap! So I'm up to 2.12 now. _Better Angels_. Dear god.
> 
>  **setting:** episode 12 " _Better Angels_ "

Connor woke up the next morning because he had a terrible headache.  
He groaned and turned on his back to stare at the ceiling. For a moment he wondered if everything that had happened yesterday night had been a dream, but his throbbing temple and the bruise on his forehead told him something else. So it had really happened. Dale was dead. Connor turned his head and looked at Daryl who was sleeping next to him. The Irishman sighed and got up. They hadn't talked after Dale's death. Not only because they were shocked, but also because Connor had been mad at Daryl for knocking him out like that. The Irishman got out of the tent and checked their surroundings for walkers. It was strangely quiet this morning. Quiet and cold. Connor went back inside the tent to grab his pea coat.

He was just getting dressed when Daryl woke up and shifted. They looked at each other, but neither of them would speak. Connor growled and left the tent without saying a word. Daryl sighed and shook his head. He felt sorry for what he'd done yesterday, but that Connor was so resentful this time really pissed him off. He got changed inside their tent and when he got out he saw Connor leaning against the old chimney by the ruin. The Irishman had a smoke in his hand and stared into nothingness. Daryl just watched his friend for a moment and then came to join him. He placed himself right next to the Irishman and looked the way Connor looked.

"What's up with yah, bitchy?"

His friend snorted.

"You _really_ need t'ask me that?"

Daryl growled.

"Oh come on yah retard, 's not the first time I punched yah in the face."

Connor turned his head and narrowed his eyes.

"It's nat that. You fucking know why. I mean af course, you knocked me out with a fuckin plank, that ain't no picnic. But I'm nat talking about that."

"Then what is it?" the hunter asked and Connor got even more pissed.

"You were bout ta kill that kid. Although I asked you not to do it. Although Rick told us ta wait. You would've betrayed the whole group like that."

"He's still alive. Get over it" Daryl answered and looked away.

Connor growled and placed a hand on his forehead. The headache was killing him. He took a long drag on his cigarette and turned his head.

"Besides. Maybe yer right. Maybe it's yer stupid god's will" Daryl said.

When his friend wouldn't answer he went on.

"I mean that's the second time something happened when we're just about t'ditch that fucker. Maybe yer right."

Connor snorted.

"I don't' even know any more."

Daryl frowned.

"What?"

The Irishman didn't say anything for a very long while.

He was scared of speaking it out. Because it was _ridiculous_.

"I'm starting to lose faith" he said quietly and Daryl snorted.

"Are yah kiddin me? _You_? Mr massive cross on my arm, Mr Jesus Christ on my back?"

Connor didn't say anything and kept smoking so Daryl stared at him.

"Why?"

The Irishman sighed.

"Loads af reasons. Loads af shit."

"Then start talking."

Connor turned his head and looked at Daryl for a while, somewhat hoping that the hunter was just kidding him. Making fun of him. But Daryl didn't look like it. He was honestly waiting for him to talk.

"I've seen a shitload af people dying in Boston. All my friends, good people. We were looking after a kid, and she got eaten right in front of our eyes. Then Murph got bit. I had to fuckin _shoot_ him,man. Then you guys lost yer girl and she died as well. Now Dale's dead, I've almost killed a fuckin teenager, and yer going dark side."

He turned his head and looked at the farmhouse.

"Just like a said. Loads af shit."

"I ain't going dark side" Daryl murmured which made Connor snort.

"You've tortured the kid. You wanted to fuckin _gut_ him in that shed."

"Yeah but not because it's my sick pleasure or some crap like that."

"Yeah af course, you looked like it."

Daryl shoved him hard and turned around to leave.

"Y'know what? Screw yah. I don't need this bullshit."

* * *

They buried Dale right next to Sophia and all the other bodies from the barn. The group gathered around their graves later that morning and Rick said their final goodbyes. Daryl stood a bit away from others again and just looked at the graves. Lost in thoughts. When he saw Sophia's grave he felt guilty all over again.

"Dale could get under your skin" Rick said after a while and Daryl looked up.

"He sure got under mine. Because he wasn't afraid to say exactly what he thought."

The hunter tried not to snort. It was so true. Most of the time the old man had annoyed the crap out of him with all his epic long speeches.

"How he felt. That kind of honesty is rare...and brave. Whenever I'd make a decision, I'd look at Dale. He'd be looking back at me with that look he had. We've all seen it one time or another."

Daryl remembered the last time he'd been given that special look. Just yesterday. When the poor bastard had asked him to side with him.

"I couldn't always read him but he could read us. He saw people for who they were."

_Torturing people? That isn't you! You're a decent man!_

Daryl took a deep breath. Just thinking about these words gave him goosebumps. It had scared the shit out of him when Dale had told him that. Looked right through him. A while ago Connor had been the one doing that. Stripping his asshole attitude away like it was nothing. The stupid Irishman had been able to read him just like Dale. But now it felt like Connor was losing that ability. Losing his faith. Losing everything.

"He knew things about us-the truth."

He saw how the Irishman moved at the mention of this word, if only ever so slightly.  
Somehow, because of his stupid tattoo, Daryl always associated this word with his friend.  
Connor - the truth.

"Who we really are. In the end he was talking about losing our humanity. He said this group was broken."

Daryl felt more and more uncomfortable because of this whole speech. Why did he feel like Rick was addressing him with those words?

 _I know I'm losin it, but aren't we all? I don' need yah, or Dale, or Connor t'tell me that 24/7,_ he thought and growled.

Connor was standing between Carol and T-Dog and stared at Dale's grave. He was still confused and doubted everything all over again. He was quite surprised how affected he was by Dale's death. _Maybe because every death reminds me af_ _ **him,**_ he thought and sighed. He knew that Daryl was standing a ouple of meters behind him and for a moment he was glad that he didn't have to face him. The Irishman didn't want anyone to see how he struggled. Especially not Daryl.

"The best way to honor him is to unbreak it. Set aside our differences and pull together. Stop feeling sorry for ourselves and take control of our lives."

Connor looked up when he heard this. It was like Rick was addressing him.

_Stop bein such a whiny pussy and pull yerself tagether. You ain't like that. That's not_ _**you** _ _. Yer not yerself any more. So stop bitching about with Daryl an stop moping. This is survival. This is living here and now. You've got t'survive. You promised. Fer Murphy. Fer Daryl. Time to move on._

"Our safety. Our future. We're not broken."

Connor nodded and took a deep breath.

"We're gonna prove him wrong. From now on we're gonna do it his way."

Rick looked at him then and Connor nodded once more. Somehow Rick's words really did something to him. Made him feel more determined.  
Stronger. Better. In the end he had just been waiting for words like that. For months.

"That is how we honor Dale" Rick finished and Connor looked at Dale's grave.

As he stared at the flowers on the pile of dirt he became aware of something else.

 _This is goodbye,_ he thought and kept staring.

Everyone moved on until it was just Connor by Dale's grave. He knew that this was it.

 _It's time,_ he thought and took a deep breath. He felt tears coming.

_Time to say goodbye._

He heard footsteps behind him. The blonde didn't pay any attention to that. He couldn't.  
Because he realized that this was not only Dale's burial but also his brother's.

_Time to move on._

He got his hands out of the pockets of his pea coat and grabbed his gun. The one he'd shot his brother with.

"You know I've loved you more than anything in this stupid world Murphy" he said and looked at his gun.

"Yer death broke me. It ripped my heart out" he went on and took a flower from Dale's grave to lie in on the ground next to it.

"But Rick's right. You were right. It's time ta stop and live on."

He felt how a single tear ran down his cheek.

"I'll never ever forget you. I will love you ferever and ever. You fuckin know that."

Connor looked up and snickered sadly.

"I know you'd probably laugh at me fer being so fuckin sentimental right now, but fuck you. It needs to be said.  
We never really said it, cos we both always knew."

He sighed and looked at the flower.

"These last couple af weeks I allowed myself ta mourn yer death..."

He sniffed and took a deep breath. _Christ, this was painful._

"But that's it. It's time ta stop. Time to move on."

Connor wiped his nose and swallowed hard.

"I know I promised ye that I'd come back t'Boston. That I would take ye back t'Ireland with me and bury you on our hill, but I can't.  
It's impossible. So this is goodbye, my dear brother."

He knelt down next to the flower and closed his eyes to start praying.

"And shepherds we shall be, for thee my Lord for thee. Power hath descended forth from thy hand...that our feet may swiftly carry out thy commands. So we shall flow a river forth to thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In Nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti."

When he opened his eyes again he lay the gun down next to the flower and sighed.

"Love you, Murph" he muttered and got up.

When he turned around he saw Daryl standing there, with arms folded. He took a deep breath and swallowed.  
After a moment he wiped the tears off his face and approached Daryl. They didn't speak as they made their way back to the farmhouse.  
Not because they didn't want to, but because they didn't need to.


	33. Repairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter!There wasn't much Daryl, hell nothing much happening during the first 30 mins of "Better Angels" so I tried my best to make something out of it. So we have a bit of chitchat, a bit of Connor healing and getting better, a bit of Daryl being nicer. Let's call it the calm before the storm. Obviously. Because shit's about to hit the fan. With Shane going bonkers and the grrreat big finale. The last 2 chapters are coming closer and closer. Gah. I don't want it to end.  
> I don't want all of this to happen. *cries* I hope I'm not boring you! But this part of the episode was rather hard to write.
> 
>  **setting:** episode 12 " _Better Angels_ "

Daryl and Connor were asked to join Andrea and Shane on a car trip to the boundaries of Herschel's farm to check on the fences. They still hadn't spoken much since Dale's burial, simply because Daryl couldn't really tell how Connor was. He hadn't meant to see that very private moment when the Irishman had said goodbye to his brother but part of him was glad he'd witnessed it. He knew that this moment had special meaning. Not only for Connor but also for their relationship. The Irishman was moving on. So was he. So were they. It had been over a month since they'd found Connor in that church. And it had taken them a month to come to terms with their complicated friendship.

They were sitting on the back of Herschel's blue farm truck. Driving past the farmer's vast fields. Now that the hunter thought about it he came to the conclusion that he was the luckiest bastard of them all. Because they were on a farm just like the one he'd grown up on. He was used to this sort of isolation. Living with nothing but a few animals and family. No television. No busy streets. No traffic jams. No big city life. Many members of the group had grown up in towns and cities. He could tell by how uncomfortable they always felt. How they talked. What they missed about their old lives. Truth was that he didn't miss a single damn thing. He had everything he needed. Everything he had wished for.

He turned his head to look at Connor who was sitting next to him. The Irishman was looking at something on the other side of the field. He still looked a bit upset, but there was something about him that made Daryl feel that he was getting better now. He had everything he had wished for. Farm life without his abusive father. Nothing but nature surrounding them. A group that accepted him and put him to work, made him do what he could do best. That, and a family. Kind of. He had always needed a brother. Especially after Merle had disappeared. And it looked like his prayers for a new brother had been heard.

They reached the first big fence after 15 minutes of driving. It didn't need much repairing except for a couple of holes. They found one walker by the corner. Some decomposing woman that had managed to get herself stuck in the iron wires. When Daryl was just about to shoot her with his crossbow, Connor placed a hand on his shoulder and started walking.

"Lemme do this fer once" he said and walked over to her.

She started growling and snarling when Connor came closer.

"I don' think yah should waste yer ammo like that.." Daryl said but Connor ignored him.

He grabbed a knife instead and stabbed the walker in the head.  
He used the hem of her dress to wipe the blood off his blade and when he turned around and looked at Daryl the latter snorted.

"Yah got a thing for walkers now, the way yah grabbed the chick's dress?"

Connor snickered.

"Fuck ye. If someone's that fucked up, it's gotta be you. I don't do dead chicks."

* * *

They spent the entire morning repairing fences and killing a few walkers every now and then. They found a bigger group of seven walkers just by the lake and once they got there they started slaughtering them. Everyone except for Daryl, who had his crossbow, used shovels and pitchforks to kill them. Even hands and feet. Connor killed two of the walkers himself. He stabbed them with Murphy's bowie knife. Since nobody was looking and everyone was busy kicking one of the walkers to death he kept stabbing the walker although it was long since dead. He was quite surprised how good it felt to slaughter them like that. Although he knew it was sick and brutal. He just couldn't fight his anger and frustration any longer. Now that he had buried his brother and said goodbye there was a massive hole in his chest. It had been filled with sorrow and grief most of the time, but now that those emotions were gone he could feel how other emotions filled it. _Anger. Madness. Frustration. Wrath._ The same sort of wrath that had filled their bellies when he and Murphy had started killing mobsters. The wrath he had inherited from his father.

Daryl had just killed the last walker when he turned around to see how Connor kept stabbing one that wasn't even moving any more.   
He shook his head.

"What's the matter with that fella?" he heard Shane say and Daryl growled.

"Shut yer hole."

"Looks like he's having fun over there" the cop snickered and Daryl narrowed his eyes.

"He's having a tough time" he muttered and approached the Irishman.

He placed a hand on Connor's shoulder which made his friend stop.

"Filthy bastard's dead. Yah can stop now."

His friend was panting already and wiped the blood and sweat off his face.

"Aye."

Daryl patted his shoulder and helped him to get up. He frowned when he saw how his friend wiped the blood off his hands.

"What, now yer really turning into some sorta psycho?"

Connor snorted and put his knife away. He grabbed a smoke and shrugged.

"Just needed a bit af stress release. And I've missed killing those shitheads."

* * *

They returned to the farmhouse by noon. The rest of the group was busy getting their things together.  
Daryl and Connor got the tools, shovels and pitchforks out of the truck.  
Rick came out of his tent to talk to Herschel and Maggie who were helping the others with their bags.

"It'll be tight, 15 people in one house" the policeman said and Herschel waved it off.

"Don't worry about that. With the swamp hardening and the creek drying up..."

"With 50 head of cattle on the property, we might as well be ringing a damn dinner bell" Maggie finished the sentence for him.

"She's right. We should've moved you in a while ago" Herschel said and Rick nodded.

"All right, let's move the vehicles near each of the doors.. facing out toward the road. We'll build a look out in the windmill, another in the barn loft. That should give us sight lines both sides of the property. T-Dog you take the perimeter around the house. Keep track of everyone coming and going."

T-Dog looked at Rick with a frown.

"What about standing guard?"

"Daryl and Connor will take care of that."

They both looked up and nodded. Connor turned around to help Daryl with the iron wires.

"I'll stock the basement with food and water. Enough that we can all survive there a few days if need be" Herschel informed them and placed a big box on his truck.

"What about patrols?" Andrea asked then and Rick looked at her.

"Let's get this area locked down first. After that Shane'll assign shifts while me and Daryl take Randall off site and cut him loose."

Daryl frowned but didn't say anything. He didn't like the idea of going anywhere near that kid again.  
When he looked at Connor it looked like his friend didn't like it either.

"We're back to that now?" Shane asked and everyone looked at Rick. The policeman just looked at his friend and nodded.

"It was the right plan first time around. Poor execution."

Shane snorted.

"Yeah that's a slight understatement."

Connor chuckled and looked at Daryl when they shifted the shovels.

"Houston, we've got another problem, I'm sensing fist fights" he muttered and Daryl snickered.

"Shut up, this is some serious shit here" the hunter answered and they both tried not to laugh.

"You don't agree but this is what's happening. Swallow it. Move on" Rick said and Connor looked at Daryl with his mouth wide open.

He shook his head and giggled once more.

"Now that hit home."

Daryl threw one of the blankets at him and Connor ducked down. He was laughing all the way through.

"You know that Dale's death and the prisoner, that's two separate things, right? You wanna take Daryl as your wing man, be my guest" Shane said and shook his head.

Lori looked at him in surprise. Rick just stared him down. Connor got back up and bent over the truck in order to nudge Daryl.

"Looks like ye got a new boyfriend now" he said and Daryl growled.

"Shut up."

"So what about us? You want me ta get our stuff? We moving in as well?"

Daryl shrugged.

"Guess so."

He pointed a finger at him and growled.

"But yah get yer stupid ass away from me. There's enough rooms in there."

Connor laughed.

"Aye, you can share a room with yer new boyfriend Rick."

"Shut up!" Daryl growled and turned around to get his bike.

* * *

No matter how many times Daryl told Connor to go away and get his stuff someplace else the Irishman wouldn't listen and put his stuff right next to his in the corner of the living room. After yelling at each other for a couple of minutes and Daryl throwing Connor's stuff all the way across the living room the Irishman ended up winning their fight. Not because Daryl was weaker than him, but because he wouldn't put a hand on Connor. Not after almost choking him, hurting his leg and knocking him out with a plank. He gave in after a couple of minutes and the Irishman celebrated his victory by letting everyone know and teasing Daryl until the latter really considered forgetting about his resolutions. Their argument was interrupted by Rick who asked them to secure the shed.

* * *

They were nailing planks onto the shed for over an hour now and Daryl was quite surprised because Connor hadn't said much yet.  
He looked at his friend from time to time until he sighed.

"What's the matter with yah prick now?"

Connor smirked.

"What are you talking about, I'm just busy."

Daryl put another plank on the window and snorted.

"Since when can yah shut yer hole more than a couple of minutes without startin yer moping crap?"

"Since I'm done moping."

Daryl sniffed and frowned.

"Really?"

"Really."

They both adjusted one of the planks and grabbed a few nails.

"How come yah did _that_ this morning?" Daryl asked casually and Connor grabbed the hammer.

"Cos Rick's speech made me think about all that shit."

"And?"

Connor stopped hammering then and sighed. He sat down on the roof and grabbed a smoke. Daryl sat down next to him after a moment and grabbed one as well. For a while they just enjoyed the view until Connor spoke.

"Well all the things he said...just reminded me of what I used ta be. How Murphy wanted me ta be. What he made me promise. He's been dead fer months now. I just...Felt it in me guts, y'know. That it's time...First I was thinking about leaving, but now? All this shit here. This farm, this group, these friendships... That's the closest we can get ta peace now. And once we got rid of that little fucker here.." he said and patted the roof to show that he meant Randall. "I think living on now really isn't so bad any more. "

Daryl sighed and nodded.

"Good."

They didn't speak for a while because they didn't want to destroy the moment.

"What about ye?" Connor asked once he had finished his smoke. Daryl shrugged.

"Yer pretty much right. I don't need much. Never did. Got everything I need. Nothing much's changed for me anyway."

His friend sighed and nodded.

"Aye."

"I'm glad yer done moping and tryin t'get yerself killed. And it's good t'hear that yer staying with us" Daryl murmured and Connor looked at him in surprise.

Suddenly the hunter got up and grabbed the hammer.

"Come on now, yah prick. We need t'finish this. Haven't got time for this stupid chick flick stuff. Stop bein such a pussy."

Connor just sat there for a moment and started grinning. He saw how Daryl grabbed a whole bunch of planks and put some nails in his mouth to resume their work. He knew that his friend could hardly ever say something nice but whenever he did, he meant it. He assumed that Daryl never really had the chance to say things like that before because of his brother and father, but now that he was all on his own it looked like he was starting to explore things like that. He was far from being good at this but it was a start. And Connor was glad and proud of himself that he was playing a big part there. That he obviously helped Daryl change for the better.

"Get yer lazy ass up here and start workin, prick! Ain't gonna do it all by myself!" Daryl yelled and Connor snickered.

He threw his cigarette away and got up to help him.

* * *

Once they were done securing the shed they went back to the farmhouse to help the Greene family with their windows.  
Daryl was securing the windows alone because Connor was needed somewhere else. Rick came out of the farmhouse after a while.  
He had a map in his hand and when he saw Daryl he nodded.

"Hey Daryl, come over here for a minute, let's talk this through."

The hunter nodded and put the hammer away to join Rick. The policeman lay the map on the railing of the porch.

"I think we should take him out to Senoia. Hour there, hour back, give or take. We may lose the light, but we'll be halfway home by then."

They both looked up at the sky and Daryl nodded.

"This little pain in the ass will be a distant memory. Good riddance" he said and sat down on the railing.

"Carol's putting together some provisions for him, enough to last a few days" Rick went on and looked up when they heard a car.

Shane was driving down the road. Rick put his hands on his hips and sighed.

"That thing you did last night-" He didn't finish the sentence. He paused and Daryl nodded.

"Ain't no reason you should do all the heavy lifting" he just said and Rick nodded.

Daryl knew that he wouldn't get much of a thank you from him right now but he didn't need it anyway. He and Rick had come to terms a long time ago. Simply because Daryl accepted him as a leader. Respected him even. And because Rick had never really said anything against him either. Shane stepped out of the car and approached them.

"So you good with all this?" Rick asked and pointed at the map.

Daryl shrugged.

"I don't see you and I trading haymakers on the side of the road. Nobody'd win that fight."

He took the map to have another look but when he saw that Shane was getting close he threw the map at Rick.  
There was no way he was staying to hear them bitching over Lori all over again.

"I'm gonna take a piss" he said and left them to their never-ending fight over Lori and leadership abilities.


	34. Missing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man I can't believe I'm already writing about that night where _everything_ 's about to go down. Oh my. Please let this night last forever because I don't want this fic to end! Really loving this chapter for all the Connaryl interaction. The walker action. Oh and the gas can. I changed a few canon things. Mainly replacing Glenn with Connor because really, we need the boys all on their own in the woods. It's the first time we're having them out like that. With walkers waiting for them. *grrr*
> 
>  **setting:** episode 12 " _Better Angels_ "

Daryl got the blue truck ready by the end of the afternoon. Everyone was done securing the farmhouse so there wasn't much else to do. Connor had also returned from wherever he'd gone for the past couple of hours and handed Daryl the provisions Carol had prepared for Randall. When the hunter saw his friend he shook his head and snorted.

"Where the hell were yah?"

Connor snorted as well.

"Why? Did ye miss me? I was helping the ladies."

He grabbed some of Daryl's arrows which where lying next to the car and placed them on the loading area of the truck.

"Pff, ain't no ladies around here. Nothing but stupid cows' more like it."

"Just because ye obviously never got close to any chicks it don't mean they're all stupid because af that. Take Maggie fer example, she took care af my leg that one night. When you didn't know what ta do."

Daryl growled.

"I knew what t'do. She just came in before I could do any of my stuff."

Connor snickered and helped him with the gas cans.

"Aren't you adorable when yer jealous."

Daryl growled and pointed an arrow at him.

"I ain't jealous! Keep yer stupid trap shut!"

"When ye keep runnin away and pull that face whenever 'm talking t'someone else..."

"I said shut it!"

Connor started laughing.

"Don't worry Darlyna, yer still the real thing. I'll love ye til the end af time.."

Daryl threw one of the empty gas cans at him and hit Connor's head. The Irishman groaned and rubbed his aching forehead.

"Ow, fuck you! Are you fuckin nuts?"

Daryl grinned mischievously.

"I told yah t' shut up."

"Only got so many arrows" they heard someone say and turned around in surprise.

They saw T-Dog coming for them. Connor still growled and complained because of the gas can attack.

"Fucker" he murmured and looked what T-Dog and Daryl were doing.

T-Dog had a gun in his hand and gave it to Daryl. The hunter took it and looked at it.

"Is that Dale's gun?" he asked and T-Dog nodded. Connor stopped cursing then and sighed.

"Yeah" T-Dog answered and they didn't speak for a while.

_That's a conversation killer._

"Thanks but I already got one from that stupid leprechaun" Daryl said and gave it back to T-Dog.

"Oh fuck ye, give it back then if ye don' want it" Connor answered but his friend ignored him.

T-Dog closed the tail board of the truck and shook his head.

"No, I'm sure Dale wanted yah to have it. You should take it. You're gonna need it out there."

Daryl took it with a sigh and put it away.

"Yeah guess yer right. Wish I knew where the hell mine is" he murmured and Connor snorted.

"Yeah looks like ye lost it, dumbass."

"Fuck you, I didn't. Idiot."

"I didn't take it either."

Daryl snorted but couldn't say anything else because Rick came over to join them.

"Ready?" he asked and Daryl turned around.

He nodded and grabbed his crossbow.

"Yeah" he muttered and T-Dog nodded as well.

"I'll get the package."

"Thanks" Rick said.

He looked at Connor and frowned.

"You planning on coming with us?"

The Irishman shrugged and folded his arms.

"Can I?"

Rick shook his head.

"I don't think that this is a good idea. With your leg.."

Connor sighed.

"It's always that fuckin leg..."

"Yeah but the town's different. There's walkers everywhere. We might need to run. Fast.."

Connor shrugged.

"Whatever. You go an have fun then. But take care af my girlfriend out there. She might start throwing gas cans at tem walkers."

"Gonna throw a full one at yah next time!" Daryl spat.

"Guys!" they heard T-Dog shouting and turned around in surprise. He came running for them. "Guys! Randall's gone!"

* * *

They started running for the shed and when Daryl opened it they found it empty. Andrea, who'd been on watch joined them to search it for clues. All they could find were bloody handcuffs and empty blankets. Within minutes half the group was with them.

"What's wrong?" Maggie asked and T-Dog stopped them so Daryl could see any remaining tracks and clues.

"Randall's missing" he informed them.

"Missing? How?"

They all started asking questions until they were one big chattering crowd.

"Now everyone calm down and let Daryl figure it out" Connor tried to soothe them and turned around to check on his friend.

"Anything?"

"Workin on it" Daryl murmured and searched the ground.

"What's goin' on?" Glenn asked and Rick sighed.

"It's hard to say. The cuffs are still hooked. He must've slipped 'em."

"Is that possible?" Carol asked and Andrea exited the shed as well.

"It is if you've got nothing to lose" she said and Connor nodded.

"Aye. I tried that once. And Murph. All you've gotta do is break yer hand enough to fit through. Hurts like crazy but...  
If yer really that desperate and try ta escape it'll work."

He grabbed his wrist absently and stroke the faint scar.

"The door was secured from the outside" Herschel said and Rick frowned.

"Well how could he get out then, it's impossible!" Glenn said and Andrea shrugged.

"He could've made his way out through the top window."

Connor shook his head.

"Nah, me and Murph secured it this morning. With planks and nails. Impossible ta get out. Just look, everything's still there."

"Well then how did he do it?" Carol asked and when Rick was just about to say something he was interrupted by Shane who stepped out of the woods. His face was all bloody and he kept shouting for Rick. They all looked up in surprise and Lori joined them.

"What happened?" she shouted and Shane walked over to them.

"He's armed! He's got my gun!"

"Are you okay?" Carl asked and Shane nodded.

"I'm fine. Little bastard just snuck up on me. He clocked me in the face!"

Rick turned around and nodded.

"Alright, Herschel! T-Dog! Get everybody back in the house! Connor, Daryl, come with us."

Daryl nodded and loaded his crossbow.

Connor grabbed his gun and checked the magazine.

"T, I'm gonna need that gun" Shane said and pointed at T-Dog's gun.

"Just let him go. That was the plan, wasn't it, to just let him go?" Carol asked and Rick shook his head.

"The plan was to cut him loose far away from here, but not on our front step with a gun."

"Don't go out there. You all know what can happen!" Carol shouted but Rick ignored her.

"Get everybody in the house" he said to T-Dog who nodded.

"Lock all the doors and stay put!" Rick yelled and the group did as they were told.

Rick, Shane, Connor and Daryl headed for the woods.  
Although Connor had quite some trouble keeping up with the other three men he tried his hardest and held his gun tight.

"Ye ready fer this shit?" he muttered and Daryl nodded.

"Been waiting for shit like this t'happen."

* * *

"I saw him head up through the trees that way before I blacked out" Shane said once they were deep inside the woods.  
He pointed at some place between the trees.

"I'm not sure how long" he went on and Rick walked further ahead.

"He couldn't have gotten far. He's hobbled, exhausted."

Daryl snickered.

"Reminds yah of someone?"

Connor growled and tried to hit him.

"Shut it."

"Really, yer stupid, go back to the farm. Yah not gonna last a minute out here like that."

"I said shut it. Rick asked me ta come."

"Ain't gonna babysit yah."

"Don't fuckin need ye ta."

Rick suddenly turned around and looked at Daryl.

"Can you track him?"

Daryl looked down and then shook his head.

"I don't see nothing."

"Hey, look, there ain't no use in tracking him, okay? He went that way. We need to pair up. We spread out, we just chase him down. That's it" Shane said.

Daryl turned around with a frown.

"Kid weighs a buck-25 soaking wet. You trying to tell us he got the jump on you?"

"I say a rock pretty much evens those odds, wouldn't you?"

This made Connor suspicious as well.

"Where did the kid get a fuckin rock inside that shed?" he asked but Rick wouldn't let him say anything else.

"Alright, knock it off. You and Daryl start heading up the right flank. Me and Shane'll take the left. Remember, Randall's not the only threat out there. Keep an eye out for each other."

* * *

It was getting dark. Way too fast. After an hour of searching Daryl and Connor found themselves roaming through the pitch black woods, somewhat trying to search for clues.

"Don't ye think it's a bit weird?" Connor asked after a while and Daryl sighed.

"What?"

"This whole story? Te kid freeing himself and then getting the jump on that pitbull? I mean breaking yer hands ta get through the cuffs is tough shit. It hurts like crazy. I doubt he'd be able ta grab a stone that's big enough to knock Shane out after that. Not to mention that there weren't any stones inside the shed."

"I know it's bullshit. But that doesn't change that the kid's still missing. Guess we just need t'find him to get answers. His body. More likely."

"You think he killed te kid?"

"Well he sure did some crap. And it didn't exactly look like they were Bffs."

"Aye just...why bother kiddin with us then? I mean why send us out ta go looking fer him?" Daryl growled and turned around.

"Look it ain't no use if yah keep prattlin about. I can't fuckin concentrate. It's too dark. Yah still got the light from truck?"

"Aye."

Connor searched his pea coat and found the flashlight. He handed it Daryl who grabbed it with a grunt. He started walking again.

"Oh Christ Come on."

The Irishman sighed and grabbed a smoke.

"All right, bitchy."

About 20 minutes later Daryl finally found something.

"There's two sets of tracks right here. Shane must've followed him a lot longer than he said."

Connor snorted.

"I told ye te whole thing's fucked up."

Daryl pointed the flashlight at a tree and frowned.

"Look, there's fresh blood on this tree."

He looked down and nudged Connor.

"There's more tracks. Looks like they're walking in tandem."

Connor frowned.  
  
"You mean like te kid up front and Shane covering his back? Maybe with a pistol?" Daryl looked at him and snorted.

"Yeah thanks for reminding me what " _walking in tandem_ " means smartass. What are yah, got yer degree as Dr Obvious?"

Connor shoved him.

"Oh fuck ye and keep sniffing, snoopy."

He started walking and ran right into Daryl who looked at him and frowned. After a moment of glaring at each other the hunter turned around again to search the ground. He found something soon after that.

"Looks like there was a little dust up right here."

"What te fuck's that supposed ta mean. Redneck-English, English-Redneck please."

Daryl growled.

"I mean something went down."

"Looks like Mr SuperCop jumped on te kid. I fucking knew it."

"Had a little trouble" Daryl said and Connor knelt down.

He found the blindfold lying on the ground. He picked it up and flashed it Daryl. He snickered.

"Ye up fer some bondage sex in te woods, Darlyna?" he said with a big grin on his face and threw it at Daryl.

The hunter glared at him and hit his shoulder. Suddenly they heard branches breaking behind them and turned around in surprise.

"Oh shit."

They started running for the closest trees and hid behind them. Someone or something was walking around the forest. Very close to them. Judging by the pacing and sound it was a walker. Connor slowly turned his head to see what it was. It was indeed a walker just a couple of meters away from them. Suddenly Daryl whistled which made him look at him. The hunter threw the flashlight at him and he took it with a sigh. They heard the walker groaning and gasping. Daryl turned his head and checked on it. When the undead got closer he looked at Connor and signaled him to shine the flashlight at the walker in order to blind it so he could shoot it with his crossbow. Connor nodded and they waited for him to get closer.

When the Irishman turned around abruptly to do as he was told he was surprised to see Randall standing there. Except Randall was now a walker. He hadn't expected him to be so close so he gasped in surprise when Randall growled and grabbed him by his pea coat. Connor was thrown back against the tree and fell down to the ground. Because Randall kept moving and attacking the Irishman and because Connor was too close Daryl couldn't shoot him with his crossbow.

"Fuckin shoot te fucker already!" Connor yelled and tried to get back up.

Daryl pulled the trigger then and missed. Suddenly Randall came running for him and grabbed his crossbow.  
The hunter tried to get hold of it but Randall, being a walker, was stronger than he thought. After a moment of fighting Daryl fell down as well.

"Connor, where the fuck are yah!" he yelled as he tried to fight Randall.

The walker was growling and snarling and tried to get hold of the crossbow. Suddenly Connor came running and knocked Randall down.  
He grabbed his knife and buried it in the kid's head. The Irishman fell back panting.

"What in the name af fuckin Mary and Jesus fuckin Christ was that..." he asked and tried to sit up.

Daryl looked at him for a moment, relief washing all over him. He was glad he and most of all Connor were still in one piece.  
The hunter got up after a moment and when he saw how the Irishman tried to get up he walked over to him and kicked his behind.

"Be more careful next time, yah prick."

Connor fell back down and cursed.

"Fuck you, 't was yer stupid plan!"

He got up and they looked at Randall who lay dead on the ground.  
Both Connor and Daryl were still panting heavily until the latter nudged his friend.

"Nice job."

The Irishman grinned.

"Well I didn't miss."

Daryl kicked his shin. Connor growled and rubbed it. He looked at Daryl.

"You alright?"

"Just a stupid walker."

"No bites?"

Connor eyed him head to toe and Daryl growled.

"I said I'm fine."

The Irishman nodded and looked at Randall.

"What about yah, are yah alright?" Daryl asked after a moment and Connor nodded.

"Aye."

They both knelt down next to Randall's body and Connor grabbed his knife.  
The hunter inspected the body for a while and placed a hand on Randall's cheek to move his head.

"Got his neck broken" he muttered and Connor frowned.

He moved the head as well. Daryl grabbed the kid by the shoulder and turned him on his back.  
He moved his jacket and shirt up to check on his bare back.

"He's got no bites."

The Irishman looked at the body and shook his head.

"No fuckin way, he was a walker. Maybe you just didn't see any."

He moved Randall's jacket and Daryl shook his head.

"No I'm telling yah. He died from this."

He pointed at his neck and Connor frowned.

"Well aren't ye the new Sherlock Holmes af Walkerland."

They both looked at each other and the Irishman chewed on his lips.

"So are ye telling me that everyone becomes a walker now once they're dead?"

Daryl shrugged and looked at Randall once more.

"I dunno. Looks like it."

He got up and got his arrow that was still stuck in the tree. Connor sighed and held his head for a moment.

"Now if that isn't some seriously fucked up shit."

"Come on now, let's head back to camp. We should tell the others."

He offered Connor a hand to help him up.

"I don't fuckin like this, Daryl" the Irishman muttered and Daryl nodded.

"Me neither. We should get back now. Tell 'em. Shane must've done it. I mean I don't know bout any walkers just snapping yer neck without havin a couple of bites. Stupid prick _must_ 've killed him."

"Well we knew anyway, didn't we?" Connor said as they headed back home.

"Yeah. I'm not sayin I'm gonna miss the little shit but 't wasn't right. I think that hyped up cop's losin it. We should tell 'em."

"Aye. And then we should.." Connor was interrupted when they heard a piercing shot echoing through the woods.

They stopped and looked at each other.

"Why would they use their fuckin guns in the middle af the night. They fuckin know we can't risk makin that kinda of noise."

Both men looked at each other for a moment and started running.


	35. Doomed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wohay! The very last couple of chapters. 5 more and I'm done. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
> 
>  **setting:** episode 13 " _Beside The Dying Fire_ "

* * *

 

* * *

 

When Daryl and Connor got back inside the farmhouse they frowned because there were only Lori, Andrea, Herschel and his family, Glenn and T-Dog sitting inside the living room. They all looked worried.

"Rick and Shane ain't back?" Daryl asked and Lori shook her head.

"No" she answered and Daryl and Connor looked at each other.

"We heard a shot" the Irishman said and Lori shrugged.

"Maybe they found Randall" she suggested but Daryl shook his head.

"We found him."

"Is he back in the shed?" Andrea asked and Connor snorted.

"He's a walker" Daryl went on and Herschel got up from the couch.

"Did you find the walker that bit him?"

"No, 't was pretty fucked up, everything. He wasn't bit. He didn't end up as some dead prick's chew toy" Connor said and his friend nodded.

"His neck was broke."

"So he fought back" Andrea, who was standing in the corner and eyed them, said and Daryl snorted.

"Yeah of course.."

He turned around to look at the others.

"The thing is, Shane and Randall's tracks were right on top of each other. And Shane ain't no tracker, so he didn't come up behind him.  
They were together."

Connor snickered.

"Right, our snoopy here did one hell af a job. Felt like fuckin Sherlock Holmes an Doctor Watson. Like in the movies."

Daryl looked at him and rolled his eyes. Suddenly Lori got up and approached Daryl.

"Would you please get back out there, find Rick and Shane and find out what on earth is going on?"

When Daryl nodded and nudged her Connor raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected him to say yes.  
Just a couple of days ago he'd told her to go herself.

 _Looks like te car crash didn't do me any good but him,_ he thought and smiled.

"You got it" Daryl said to Lori and headed for the door.

He nudged Connor to signalize that he should come with him.

"Thank you" Lori said and they left.

"Since when do you do something fer people when they ask ye?" Connor asked with a smirk on his face.

Daryl growled.

"Shut up."

"'m just saying. That's good, man."

"We're coming with you" they heard someone say and turned around.

Andrea and Glenn were standing right behind them. Daryl frowned.

"Why the heck would we need four people t'search for Rick and Shane?"

Andrea folded her arms.

"We can search a bigger area in less time."

Daryl and Connor looked at each other. The latter shrugged after a moment.

"Guess she's right."

The hunter just growled and stepped outside. When they saw the barn they all froze. There they were, hundreds of walkers coming from the woods. They were all heading for the farmhouse. They were just by the barn and kept moaning and staggering towards them. They couldn't really tell how many there were but it looked like an army of the undead, preparing to tear them down. The fields were only lit by moonlight which gave the scenario an eerie atmosphere. "Holy shit" Connor whispered and Herschel turned around.

"Patricia, kill the lights" he ordered and Andrea grabbed the door handle.

"I'll get the guns."

"Maybe they're just passing, like the herd on the highway. Should we just go inside?" Glenn said and Connor snorted angrily.

"Aye, cos walkers ain't interested in tasty fresh meat when it's right in front of them."

"Not unless there's a tunnel downstairs I don't know about. A herd that size would rip the house down" Daryl said at the same time and Connor nodded.

"Aye. Nat only the house."

Suddenly Lori came outside. She was out of breath and looked troubled.

"Carl's gone."

They turned around and looked at her.

"What?" Daryl asked and she nodded.

She was panicking.

"He..he was upstairs, I can't find him anymore."

"Maybe he's hiding" Glenn suggested and Connor glared at him.

"If she said she can't find him she probably looked everywhere he could hide, smartass."

"He's supposed to be upstairs. I'm not leaving without my boy" Lori stammered and Connor grabbed her by her shoulders.

"Af course we ain't leaving yer boy behind, are you nuts? We'll go back inside and search once more. Pair af fresh eyes can't do any harm.  
I'm gonna make sure we find yer boy."

Carol, who'd just come outside, nodded.

"He's right. We're gonna find him. We'll look for him. Together."

Connor turned around to look at Daryl who just frowned. The Irishman smirked and nudged his shoulder.

"Be back in a minute. Then we'll have some fun with the walkers."

Daryl snorted.

"Admit it, you're just scared outta yer pants. The kid's just an excuse for yah t'run and hide in a closet."

Connor grinned.

"Yer the one grabbing yer fuckin crossbow with yer knuckles going white."

The Irishman turned his head to look how close the walkers were.

"Fuck" he murmured and turned around to get inside the house.

"Eh Connor" Daryl said then and the Irishman turned his head to look at him.

"Watch yer whiny ass."

Connor grinned and nodded.

"Aye. You, too."

* * *

When Lori, Carol and Connor entered the house Rick's wife started yelling her child's name again. Patricia and Beth were still standing by the windows. When they heard them they turned around and looked at the small group. Beth approached Connor with a frown.

"What's going on?"

"Lori's kid's gone. She can't find 'im."

"Want us to help?"

He looked at her and nodded.

"Aye, the more people look fer him the faster we find him. We're gonna need the time."

He looked behind the sofas and under the tables.

"Connor?"

"Aye?" he said but didn't look up.

"How many?" the girl asked, but he didn't answer and kept searching.

"How many walkers are out there?" she repeated and he finally looked at her with a sigh.

"Hundreds. We're gonna have ta leave. I think. But still, we haven't got time fer this fucking chitchat right now. We gotta find te kid."

She took a deep breath and looked at Patricia.

"Okay, we want to help."

He nodded.

"Okay. You take the back of the house, the kitchen, look behind bushes and counters, anywhere where he could hide."

Beth and Patricia nodded and left. Lori came running in a second later.

"I can't find him, I can't find him. He's _nowhere_!" she said and knelt down to look under the tables.

Connor grabbed her by her waist and lifted her up to stand. He placed both his hands on her shoulders again and looked her in the eye.

"Now you listen ta me. It ain't no use if you keep panicking and fuckin scream the neighborhood down. You've gotta concentrate and stop shouting. I doubt it'll bring him back. All yer doin is attracting those lame brains to our house. Now you've gotta take a deep breath and concentrate. All yer fuckin panic isn't doing anyone any good. It just stresses you an yer unborn kid, okay? I told you that I'm going ta find yer kid. Just trust me on this."

She nodded and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Carol's checking the attic, Beth and Patricia are searching the rooms on this floor, I'm going upstairs...but no one's found him yet!"

He nodded.

"Okay. Patricia and Beth are checking the back af te house, I'm gonna check the cellar. Maybe he's hiding down there were all the food an water is. It's a good place ta hide. I'm sure we're gonna find 'im."

* * *

Andrea came back with the guns just a couple minutes after Lori, Connor and Carol had left. Everyone grabbed a gun and got ready.  
Maggie handed Glenn a shotgun which made him frown.

"Maggie.." he said but she interrupted him

"You grow up country, you pick up a thing or two" she said and Daryl snorted.

He'd spent some time counting the walkers. He couldn't believe that they were really stupid enough to believe that they could take that herd on.

"I got the number. It's no use" he said and Herschel looked up from his gun.

"You can go if you want" he responded and Daryl frowned.

"You gonna take 'em all on?" he asked in disbelief and Herschel nodded.

"We have guns. We have cars."

"Kill as many as we can, and we'll use the cars to lead the rest of them off the farm" Andrea went on and Daryl looked down at her.

When he saw that she wasn't kidding he turned his head to look at Herschel.

"Are you serious?"

The old man loaded his gun and grabbed all the ammo he could.

"This is my farm. I'll die here" he said and Daryl raised an eyebrow.

No matter how stupid and suicidal their plan was, he sure had some guts.

"All right. It's as good a night as any" Daryl murmured and jumped off the porch. Truth was that he really didn't want to die because of some stupid farm but then again, they could die any day now. And he preferred going down with a big bang instead of getting eaten by some geek in the woods one day. At least he could take a great number of those bastards with him. They got inside their cars in pairs once their guns were ready. Daryl placed his crossbow on the back of his motorbike and checked his guns once more. After a moment he decided to take the one Connor had given him and started the engine of his bike. Part of him wondered where the Irishman was and if he was alright but then he forced himself to stop worrying. He needed to concentrate now. And if Connor had managed to survive on his own for months, survived a suicide attempt and a car crash, he was sure that there was no reason to worry.

They drove towards the barn where the walkers kept coming closer. At some point the building started to burn and he was sure that Rick and Shane were back. There was no one else who could have started the fire and he was pretty sure that walkers were too stupid to use matches and lighters. They started driving up and down the fence and shot the walkers from their vehicles. In the meantime Jimmy, the farmer's boy, drove the RV to block the way that led from the barn to the farmhouse and made sure that no walker could slip through the gates. No matter how many times they drove up and down the fence, the walkers wouldn't stop coming. There were too many of them.

* * *

When Connor came up the stairs from the cellar he heard Lori shouting and running again.

"I can't find him anywhere" she shouted, completely out of breath.

Connor joined them in the hallway and shook his head.

"Didn't find him in the cellar either."

"So maybe he snuck outside" Carol said and Connor wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"Aye, looks like it. Going ta check on the other girls outside and ask them, maybe they've found him."

"What do I do?" Lori screamed all of a sudden and Connor stopped to turn around in surprise.

"He was here. He must've run off, maybe looking for Rick or went after Randall himself" Carol suggested and tried to calm Lori down.

"Maybe he set the barn on fire" Carol went on.

Connor took a deep breath and nodded.

"Okay, so that's it. You go outside and wait fer me by te door. I think Herschel's still outside and sounds like he's still shooting the fuckers.  
You grab yer guns and wait til I get back. I'm gonna check the back of the house and get Beth and Patricia, and when we're done I'm gonna check the barn myself."

Once the women were outside Connor took his gun and checked the magazine. He took a deep breath and entered the kitchen to get to the back door.

"All right, everything's fuckin all right. Just a couple af hundred dead and flesh eating pricks. You've done this shit before, man" he murmured and opened the door.

"Beth!" he shouted and went down the stairs. He turned his head to look for her.

"Beth! Patricia! Were te fuck are ye, we need ta leave! The boy ain't here! Time ta go!" he went on but couldn't see them anywhere.

It was too dark outside. He could still hear the gunshots and moans everywhere. He reached the corner of the house and startled when he came across two walkers. He cursed and went backwards. The two undead started growling and reached out for Connor who sighed. "Sorry but I ain't on the menu today" the Irishman said and shot them in the head. He turned around to check if there were any walkers nearby. He couldn't see Beth and Patricia anywhere either.

"Beth! Patricia!" he yelled again and shook his head. "Jesus, where the fuck are they?" he murmured and kept walking.

He was heading for the next corner of the house. He wondered where Daryl was and if he was all right. But then again, he was Daryl Dixon with his stupid crossbow. Eating raw squirrel flesh and surviving gunshots and arrows. He reached the other end of the house and looked down to check his gun. He didn't have much ammo left and knew that there was no way they could ever take down the entire herd. He knew that they needed to leave soon.

When Connor walked around the corner and looked up again he was surprised by another walker. Connor yelped when the creature attacked him and made them both fall down. The Irishman tried to get hold of his gun and struggled to fight the walker off. He finally managed to place his gun on the creature's head when a loud gunshot close to the house startled him. He lost grip of the walker because of that and screamed in pain when it bit his left forearm. Connor pulled the trigger at the same time and shot the walker dead. He was panting heavily and swallowed hard.

_Too late. Too fuckin late._

He managed to get the corpse off him and sat up, still panting and groaning because of the fight and incredible pain in his arm.  
The walker hadn't managed to rip the flesh out, but he could still see the bite on his bloody arm.

"No..no" he murmured and placed a hand on the wound, somewhat hoping it would disappear beneath it.

But he could feel it. _Pulsating, hurting, bleeding._

" No, oh god no. _Please."_

The pain and the bleeding wouldn't stop, and he knew he was doomed.


	36. Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 13 " _Beside The Dying Fire_ "

* * *

* * *

There were too many of them. And they were getting closer. Too close. Daryl decided to give it up. It was pointless. Wasting their ammo on something so stupid. The farm was lost. And he knew it. They needed to get their things together and leave. He was just about to drive off when he remembered Rick and Shane. No matter how much he hated their stupid plans, they still didn't deserve to die like this. Neither because of walkers nor because of the fire. When he saw the RV he had an idea. He knew that he couldn't just drive in there and look for them because he was on his motorbike. It wasn't safe like that, but the RV was big and solid enough to make it through. He drove towards it and Jimmy, who was sitting inside, looked at him.

"Hey you, must've been Rick or Shane setting that fire. Maybe they're trying to get out back! Why don't you circle round? Go!" he shouted and Jimmy nodded.

"Got it!"

Daryl made sure that the kid made his way and before he drove off he turned around to check on the others. He saw Herschel's blue truck and Shane's Hyundai still driving up and down the property. Glenn and Andrea were shooting the walkers, Maggie and T-Dog were behind the wheel. He could see Herschel and the women by the farmhouse. _Where the hell are yah, prick,_ he thought but couldn't find Connor. He heard more walkers coming for him and shot some of them in the head. It was getting too dangerous. They needed to get off the land. _Now._ He cursed himself for doing this but after a moment he got on his bike and drove off. He didn't drive far away, just a couple of meters down the road, away from the walkers. Hoping they'd make it out alive. Hoping that Connor _was_ still alive.

* * *

He couldn't believe how much one tiny bite could hurt.  
It felt like his head could explode any minute, like someone had poured pure acid all over his arm. Connor could literally _feel_ the infection spreading but he needed to keep going. He had told the women to wait for him. He had promised he'd find Lori's boy. The Irishman stumbled back inside the house and held his arm under the water tap in the kitchen. The bite looked nasty but he tried to ignore it. He needed to focus. If only for just another couple of hours.

"You should put a bandage on that" he heard someone say and sighed.

He leaned against the sink.

"You coming ta get me now?"

His twin brother snickered behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Not quite yet, Con."

"Guess you were right all te time, brother. Bout te whole thing. Dying when I don't expect it."

Connor swallowed hard.

"I really didn't see that coming, Murph" he whispered.

Murphy stroke his shoulder and nodded.

"Aye. 's always like that. No one's ever prepared fer it."

Connor turned around and looked at his brother.

"I'm fuckin scared Murphy. So fuckin scared."

Murphy chuckled.

"What, te redneck's right? Yer really scared af some stupid dead pricks? You can take them on. Yer Connor fuckin MacManus."

"I'm nat talking about the walkers. Or everything that's going on out there" Connor said and groaned when the pain in his arm got worse.

The headache was killing him. He bent over for a moment and gasped. Murphy stroke his back.

"'s that how it felt like fer ye?" the older twin asked and Murphy nodded.

"Aye" he said and Connor snickered.

"Guess yer right. Shouldn't hate myself fer putting a bullet to yer head then."

It felt like he could pass out any minute now. The room started spinning and he had trouble staying on his feet.

"It's all right Con. Everything's gonna be all right."

"I don't wanna die Murph. Not after all this."

His legs gave in but Murphy caught him.

"Not now Connor. Too soon. You gotta fuckin go out there, and you gotta end it. There's still shit that needs ta happen. Yer job's nat done yet."

"Aye" Connor murmured and tried to get hold of himself.

He turned around and grabbed a glass of water to pour it over his head.

"You know I fuckin love ye. Just a bit more an yer free, brother" Murphy said behind him and Connor nodded once more.

"You go out there. You can do this. Yer fuckin strong. You won't go down. Ye're like.."

Connor snickered and finished the sentence for his brother.

"Duke fuckin Wayne."

He took a deep breath and grabbed a towel to wrap it around his arm.  
He pulled the sleeve of his pea coat back down to hide the injury and nodded.

"Okay, let's do this shit" Connor murmured and turned around.

Murphy was gone.

* * *

There was chaos outside. The women had vanished and there were walkers everywhere. Herschel stood a couple of meters away from the house and kept shooting. When Connor saw him he approached the old man. Now that he was bit and feverish, his leg hurt even more as well. He could hardly walk anymore, which made it even harder for him to keep going. Herschel turned around and pointed the gun at him.

"Get away from my house, you soulless creatures!" he yelled and Connor tried to signalize that he wasn't one of them.

Herschel, out of his mind, confused and irritated because of the chaos all around them didn't see that it was Connor and pulled the trigger.

"What te fuck are ye.."

The Irishman couldn't speak on because a bullet hit his shoulder and knocked him down. Connor yelped in pain and placed a hand on his shoulder. He wasn't sure what was going on for a moment because of the shock until Herschel's face swam into view.

"Connor? Boy? I'm so sorry! I didn't see that it was you, it was dark and the way you walked..You looked like you were one of them."

Connor gasped and looked at the old man for a moment, only to squeeze his eyes shut in pain.

"You fuckin..need some glasses old man" he growled and Herschel tried to get his jacket off.

When he did so Connor suddenly grabbed his hands and shook his head. He didn't want him to see the bite wound.

"Fuckin leave it.. You need ta find the girls..they fuckin ran off. We need ta get away fram here."

He tried to sit up and gasped when everything started spinning again.  
He was in so much pain because of the bite and his leg that the gunshot wound didn't really matter right now.

"I'm not leaving my farm."

"Open yer fuckin eyes! The farm's lost! We got overrun, we're going crazy, you can't even tell who's on yer side!" Connor shouted and tried to get up.

The walkers kept coming closer now that they smelt his blood. Herschel tried to help him up but Connor shrugged him off. Suddenly he saw another walker right behind Herschel. "Watch yer back! Walker!" he screamed but before Herschel could turn around they heard a gunshot and the walker fell to the ground. Connor had finally managed to stand up and looked at the person behind them. Standing there, with a gun in his hand and his son next to him, was Rick Grimes.

"Where's Lori, did you see Lori?" he asked and looked at Herschel who shook his head.

"I don't know what happened, Rick. They just keep coming. It's like a plague, they're everywhere!" Herschel said and Connor nodded, with his hand still holding his injured shoulder.

"We were lookin fer yer boy inside the house but when we couldn't find him I told them ta go outside. They were sapposed ta wait fer me cos I wanted ta get Beth and Patricia. When I came back they were fuckin gone..Then he shot me in the shoulder.. We need ta leave, Rick. It's fuckin chaos here."

"Did you see where she was going?"

Connor shook his head.

"No but I guess she took off with the others."

Rick nodded.

"We have to go. Find mom and the others" he said and looked at Carl.

When he saw another walker coming he shot him in the head.

"It's my farm!" Herschel protested and Rick grabbed him.

Connor grabbed Carl by his shoulder.

"You stay with me, little fella."

"Not anymore!" Rick yelled and tried to get Herschel, who was panicking, away from the walkers.

"Come on!" Rick spat and Connor tightened his grip.

He dragged Carl with him as they headed for one of the last remaining cars. Herschel kept shouting and screaming at the walkers and Rick and Connor shot some of them dead on their way to their car. The Irishman could hardly stay on his feet anymore because of the exhaustion and his injuries, but he knew that he had one final task, and that was to make sure that the little kid would be with his mother again. Connor placed Carl on the front seat and then got inside the back of the car. Herschel and Rick followed them a second later. They drove off at full speed and bumped into a couple of walkers before finally reaching the road.

"Hey did ye see Daryl on yer way here?" Connor murmured after a while and Rick shook his head.

"No" he said quietly and looked at his son.

He placed a hand on his shoulder and then concentrated on the road again. Connor turned his head to look at Herschel who was sitting right next to him on the backseat. The old man just stared out of the window. At his farm. His land. They saw the barn on fire, with flames growing and swallowing everything that was in their way. It looked kind of beautiful and grotesque with all the walkers in front of them. After a couple of minutes the roof gave in and crashed down. The barn was falling to pieces. Just like their idea of heaven and peace on that farm. Everything was gone. Everything was lost. He felt sorry for the old man. He knew what it's like to lose your home, something that really mattered to you. He placed a hand on Herschel's shoulder and squeezed it gently.

"I'm sorry fer yer loss" he said quietly and Herschel sniffed.

"That farm was my life."

"I know."

Herschel turned around and looked at Connor.

"I'm sorry I shot you."

Connor smirked tiredly and shrugged. He hissed when it hurt.

"'s all right. Just a scratch. Really. I'm fine. You tried ta protect what's yers. Everyone would do that. Everyone _does_ that."

Herschel just nodded and looked out of the window again. As Connor watched the flames he thought about Daryl. He wondered where he felt it in his guts that he was alright but part of him wondered whether he'd see him again. _Just once more_. Because the problem wasn't that he was afraid that his friend was dead. He was afraid that he'd be dead by the time Daryl found them again. Because he was _dying_. With every second they drove on, into the darkness. Into nothingness. He just wanted to see his friend one more time. Because he wanted to thank him. Because he wanted to say _goodbye._

 _Please god. Just gimme some more time. I know I wasn't that good these days and I know I sinned when I tried to take my life._  
 _It was stupid. Pointless. Nat me. I know that now. So please don't punish me fer it_ _**now.** _ _Nat after all this time._

He closed his eyes and started praying.

* * *

Daryl parked a couple about a mile down the road to the house and watched the barn going down in flames. He couldn't help but smile a bit. Not only because he knew that a great number of walkers went down with it but also because the place they'd found Sophia in, the place that'd been her prison, was finally going down. Just like everything else. He thought it was beautiful. It had been years since he'd last seen something as strange and beautiful as that. Part of him had hated the farm. Too much had happened there. Too many deaths. Too many questions. Too many things had changed. And as he watched the flames he thought about Connor. He wondered where he was. How he was. He just knew that his friend was still alive, but he couldn't really tell if they'd see each other again. Part of him considered just leaving for good. He had always considered the possibility of just leaving the group. Maybe he would find Merle again. He grabbed the handlebar of his bike to play around with the accelerator, but when he did so he knew what he wanted. He didn't want Merle. He didn't want this brother. He wanted the _other_ brother. Maybe their leaving was some sort of new start for them now. Maybe he could finally get rid off his stupid attitude and open himself up to the others. Most importantly Connor.

_Because, really. What's so wrong about havin someone that cares about yah. It's all yah can get nowadays.  
Pretty much everything that makes yah something more than those dead pricks._

His thoughts were interrupted by a piercing shriek that came from somewhere down the road. He turned around in surprise and then started his engine to drive back. He saw Carol running from a small group of walkers. She was exhausted and kept screaming.

_Had they really left her behind?_

He shook his head because this made him angry.

"Come on, I ain't got all day!" he yelled and Carol sat down on his bike right behind him.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and shouted "Let's go!"

He turned around and drove off as fast as he could. The group kept following them, but they were faster. He could hear her panting against his back for quite sometime after they'd left the farm. Daryl was glad he'd found her just then. It was like a sign. He knew he was supposed to stay with the group. Now that even Carol had made it. He knew that they were going to find the others. Everything was going to be alright and he knew it.

* * *

They drove on for what seemed like hours. Connor's condition got worse with every hour. Herschel began to worry after a while and tried to take a look at his shoulder. The Irishman shook his head stubbornly and tried to move even further away.

"I'm alright, okay. Just a fuckin graze. I'm just tired" Connor lied.

Of course he was tired, but not so much that it could make him look like shit. Because he looked like shit. The infection was raging through his body. He had the worst headache in his life and he could hardly move his left arm anymore. He snorted because of the irony. His left arm. The one with the cross. The one with _Veritas_.

 _The truth hurts_ Murphy had said when they got their tattoos.

How right he was.

The fever made him feel dizzy. Sometimes he confused little Carl on the front seat with little Murphy, just because their hair kind of looked alike. He saw him everywhere. When he saw a pen lying there by the radio, between Carl and Rick, he had an idea.

"Eh Carl. Can you gimme that pen over there?"

The little boy turned around to look at him. He nodded and grabbed it to give it to the Irishman.

"What do you need a pen for?" the boy asked and Connor put it in his pocket.

"Gonna need et later. Doesn't matter. Just give it to me, please."

"Need a paper?" Carl asked but Connor shook his head.

He winced when it hurt.

"Nah's all right."

He saw how Herschel and Rick just frowned but ignored them. He prayed to god that they would find Daryl in time.

* * *

They reached the highway in early morning, just after sunrise. The sunlight hurt Connor's eyes but he was feeling a tiny bit better once they got out of the car and stopped driving. They stopped just in front of an old white car with bottles of water and a blanket on its hood. There was " _Sophia stay here_ " written on it and Connor sighed. He sat down on the hood of their car and watched how Rick and Carl walked away.

"Where's mom?" Carl asked angrily and Rick stopped walking.

"You said she'd be here! We..we gotta go back for her" the little boy said and Rick shook his head.

"Carl..."

"No! Why are we running? What are we doing?" the little boy screamed which made Connor's head ache even more.

He buried his face in his hands for a moment and gasped.

"It's...it is mom. We need to get her and not be safe a mile away!"

Rick just stared at his son for a moment. When he kept shouting the policeman placed a hand on his shoulder and hushed him.

"You need to be quiet, all right? Please."

Carl looked at his father and nodded after a moment. Connor nodded as well and looked back up.

"Aye, yer screaming the whole highway down. I'm sure yer ma's all right" he muttered.

"Please. It's _mom_." Carl begged.

Rick knelt down in front of him and tried to talk to him but the kid ran away. Connor just looked at Rick for a moment and when Herschel started talking to him the Irishman let out a sigh and went after Carl. He sat down next to the kid and looked at him.  
Carl just stared down and pouted.

"Yer just like yer ma." Connor said after a while and Carl looked up.

Connor lit a smoke and let out a relieved sigh because it did him good.

"What do you mean?" the kid asked quietly and Connor snickered.

"When she found out that you were gone she started screaming down the neighborhood as well. But in a brave kinda way. She wasn't scared af the possible danger. She did everything she could ta get ye back. Just like you did a second ago."

Carl looked at him for a while.

"You were with her?"

"Aye. Tried ta look after her. Yer ma's a tough one, that is. I'm sure she's all right. She'll find us. Don't be so hard on yer Da."

"You're a man of god, have some faith!" they heard Rick shout and turned around in surprise.

The policeman stared at Herschel who looked down. Connor snorted.

 _You can have all the faith you want but you can't understand god's plan fer any af us. Believer or nat,_ he thought and grabbed his injured arm.

"Does it hurt?" Carl asked and Connor looked at him in surprise.

"What?"

"You're hurt. Is it bad?"

The Irishman snickered and ruffled the boy's hair.

"I'm Irish. I was born ta live with it."

"Christ promised the resurrection of the dead. I just thought he had something a little different in mind" he heard Herschel say and froze.

He was surprised how much those words hurt. Because the old man was _right._

"It's all right Con" he heard Murphy say and turned around in surprise.

Carl wasn't sitting next to him anymore. It was Murphy instead. Just about Carl's age. He remembered his face all too clearly.  
He had always mocked Murphy because he was a little late with everything. He had always looked like a baby, childish, innocent. _Snotface._

"All you've gotta do is take me hand, squeeze yer eyes shut and ask god ta take the pain away" little Murphy said and Connor snickered with tears in his eyes.

He remembered those words. Their Ma had always said that when they were little. When they had returned home from all their crazy games and when they had got hurt. At some point they stopped running for their mother and ran for each other instead. Whenever Murphy had managed to fall off a tree and hurt his knee, he had been there and taken his hand. Whenever he had managed to crash their bike and hurt his chin Murphy had been there and taken his.

_It's all right Con. I'm here._

"It's all right Con. I'm here."

Both little Murphy next to him and grown Murphy in his head said at the same time.

"Aye."

The little boy placed his hand on his and squeezed it. There was no "Aequitas" written on his tiny fingers yet, but he knew that someday there would be. Connor squeezed back and nodded.

"Aye" he murmured again and looked at Rick.

When he turned his head he saw Carl sitting next to him again. Murphy was nowhere in sight.


	37. Infected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my. Why am I doing this. It's like I'm cutting my heart out with a blunt bread knife.
> 
>  **setting:** episode 13 " _Beside The Dying Fire_ "

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* * *

 

They were still waiting for the others to come back. Rick still wouldn't leave with Carl, no matter how many times Herschel told him to leave. Connor felt really sick now. It wasn't even the bite itself that was worst. It was the fever that was killing him. He felt like he was burning up, like his bones were made out of glass. He didn't know how much longer he could take it. Rick and Herschel's endless discussion got interrupted when they heard another walker. They all looked up in surprise and hid behind their car. Connor leaned against it for a moment and tried to muffle his groans and gasps because he didn't want to attract it to them. The walker just passed them but didn't seem to notice them. They watched him leave and let out a relieved sigh. Herschel wouldn't let it go though.

"I don't know how much longer we can stay here" he whispered and Rick looked at him.

"I'm not leaving without mom" Carl muttered and looked at his father.

"So we're just gonna walk away? Not knowing if my wife, your girls are still out there? How do we live with that?" Rick whispered back.

"I ain't going anywhere" Connor muttered and watched the walker.

"You've only got one concern now, just one. Keeping _him_ alive" Herschel said to Rick and looked at Carl.

"He's leaving. He didn't see us" Connor said and put his gun away because he couldn't hold it any longer.

It was getting too heavy. He could hardly keep his eyes open any more. Rick and Herschel were too busy arguing to see how he was. Only Carl looked at the Irishman. At least he looked worried. Connor smiled at him and ruffled his hair.

"Nature may be throwing us a curveball, but that law is still true" Herschel said and the expression on Rick's face changed.

He looked like he was really considering it now. He knelt down in front of Carl and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Carl. It's not safe here. I'm sorry. We'll..."

The little boy started sobbing. When Rick tried to explain it to him, Carl just turned around and buried his face in Connor's pea coat.

"Please tell them. We can't leave. Please."

The Irishman looked at the boy in surprise and faced Rick.

He was surprised that Carl was asking _him_ to do something.

"I.. look little fella..I.." he stammered and looked at Rick again.

He felt awkward because of the whole situation. Rick placed a hand on Carl's back and tried to make him turn him around again.

"Carl, you need to understand, please..We'll..."

They all turned their head when they heard the engine of a vehicle. It was coming from somewhere down the road. For a moment they just waited until they saw what it was. _Who_ it was. "Thank god" Connor said and couldn't help but smile. They saw Daryl and Carol driving down the motorway on Daryl's bike. Maggie and Glenn followed him in Shane's Hyundai. A second later they saw T-Dog, Lori and Beth in Herschel's blue truck. Rick, Carl and Herschel ran for the place where they parked their cars. Connor wasn't as fast as them. When he finally reached them they were all busy hugging and welcoming each other back. Daryl had his back turned on him and Connor smiled when he saw the wings on his back. He knew his prayers had been heard.

"Where'd you find everyone?" Rick asked Daryl.

"Well, those guy's tail lights zigzagging all over the road.. figured he had t'be Asian driving like that" he said and Connor could tell he was smiling.

The Irishman was almost there behind him.

"Good one" Glenn said with a smirk on his face.

When he saw Connor he nodded.

"Where's the rest of us?" Daryl asked and Rick looked at him.

"We're the only ones who made it so far."

"Shane?" Lori asked and got up.

Rick shook his head.

"Andrea?" Glenn asked and Carol answered.

"She saved me, then I lost her."

Connor was finally standing right behind Daryl. For a moment he considered scaring the crap out of him by grabbing his shoulders, but then he decided to let it go. He wanted him to see him first.

"We saw her go down" T-Dog said.

"Patricia?" Herschel asked and his daughter looked at him.

"They got her, too. Took her right in front of me. I was...I was holding onto her, daddy. She just..."

She started crying and Herschel and her sister tried to comfort her.

"What about Jimmy, did you see Jimmy?" she asked and Rick looked at her with a sigh.

"He was in the RV. It got overrun."

For a while it was quiet except for Beth's sobs.

Then Daryl spoke.

"What about Connor?"

The Irishman smiled when he heard that. Glenn grinned and pointed at him.

"How about you turn around?" Daryl turned around and looked at Connor in surprise.

For a moment he couldn't hide his surprise and joy but once he could he growled and nudged the Irishman.

"Didn't bother tellin me, yah stupid idiot? How long have yah been standing behind me, yah creep?"

Connor tried not to wince when Daryl hit his arm. With the infection and all the injuries it felt like a simple little blow like that could break his bones. He grinned at him nevertheless. When Daryl saw Connor his heart missed a beat. Because he'd been scared for a second. Just for a second he'd thought that Connor was gone, but there he was, standing right in front of him, with bloody face and so pale it almost looked creepy. And when he saw how Connor smiled and looked at him, he knew something was different. That Connor was different. It made him frown.

"Looks like yer still in once piece. Maybe yer not as whiny as I thought" Daryl said and offered him a hand to welcome his friend back with a casual handshake.

Connor took his hand and pulled him into a hug with a soft giggle.

Daryl growled and tried to shake him off.

"How many times have I told yah t'get yer stupid hands off me? Could yah be any more gay?"

Connor let go of him and smirked.

"Just glad ta see you made it, man" he said and Daryl frowned when he saw his shoulder.

"Course I made it. What the hell happened to yah?"

"Herschel shot me. He mistook me fer a walker."

Daryl snorted.

"Can't blame him. You look like shit. Will yah ever learn t'watch yer ass when I'm not around? Good lord. Pathetic how yah still need a babysitter at yer age."

Connor sighed and pulled a face. It made Daryl even more suspicious. He could have sworn that it had looked like his friend was in pain. Real pain.

"Can we please stop all that fuckin mocking and insulting each other fer once? Please? Just fer today?"

This made Daryl frown.

"What the hell is wrong with yah?"

The Irishman just smirked and leaned against the car.

"Just a bit tired, that's all. The gunshot wound, all that fucking chaos...kinda wasted me."

Daryl snorted.

"Yer such a girl."

Daryl was so clueless. Connor couldn't really tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing. It didn't really matter in the end. Sooner or later his friend would figure it out. He knew Daryl was smarter than everybody thought. He just wanted to keep pretending for a little longer. Pretending that he was _alright._ That he _wasn't_ dying. That they had enough _time_ to enjoy their friendship. That he had enough time to help Daryl change for the better and become that remarkable human being that he could be once he got rid of his inner demons. But he knew it wasn't going to happen. His time was running out. _Their_ time was running out.

"Did you see Andrea? Really see her?" Carol asked after a moment and they both looked up.

"Well no, but there were walkers everywhere" Lori said and Daryl moved.

"I'm gonna go back" he said and Rick turned around.

"No" he said and Connor placed a hand on Daryl's shoulder to pull him back.

"No fuckin way."

"We can't just leave her" Daryl said and frowned.

"We don't even know if she's there."

Connor wouldn't let go of Daryl which made the latter turn his head and look at him. He stared at Connor's bloody hand, the one with the Veritas tattoo. He was just about to say something again when he saw how his hand was shaking. He realized that the Irishman wasn't only holding him back, he was also holding on to him. Somehow the whole scenario scared the crap out of him.

"She isn't there. She isn't. She's somewhere else or she's dead. There's no way to find her" Rick said.

Daryl turned around again because he couldn't believe that Rick Grimes would say something like that. It was like he was turning into the new Shane.

"So we're not even gonna look for her?" Glenn asked and Rick shook his head.

"We gotta keep moving." Daryl snorted and turned around with his motorbike.

"Where te fuck are ye going?" Connor asked and Daryl moved his bike back on track.

"We can't just leave her there. Someone's gotta get going if yah haven't got the guts."

He bent over his bike to adjust something when Connor saw the walker from an hour ago coming from behind a truck right next to Daryl.

"Watch yer back!" he shouted and pulled his gun.

He was there in no time. He was quite surprised that he could still run, but before Daryl even managed to grab his crossbow or gun Connor was there and shot the walker in the head. They both panted heavily because of the shock and stared at each other. And as Connor looked at the walker and the gun in his hand he remembered. _Yer job's nat done yet, Con. You've still got a purpose. Some shit you've gotta do._ He knew he had just saved Daryl's life. If he had given up back inside that kitchen yesterday, his friend would have died today. "Thanks" the hunter murmured and looked at the dead walker to his feet. He kicked it and turned around to face the others. Rick pointed at them.

"See? There's walkers crawling all over here! It's not safe! The bigger the road, the more walkers. We're leaving _now_."

* * *

And here they were, sitting inside their cars again. Driving down some endless road. He saw Daryl and Carol driving in front of them. Connor just stared out of the window and looked at the trees and houses they drove past. After an hour or two he closed his eyes from time to time. Just to try it for a bit. What it felt like. _Dying_. The fever and pain got worse and worse. He could feel every bump, every tiny stone they crossed. It felt like his bones were breaking with every move. He leaned his head against the window pane and let out a relieved sigh when it cooled his burning forehead. He groaned when someone placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him.

"Connor?"

He moved his head tiredly to see who was talking. Lori was sitting next to him with a worried look on her face.

"What's the matter? Is it the gunshot wound?"

"'m all right" he croaked and closed his eyes again.

Lori placed a hand on his forehead and gasped.

"You're burning up."

" Said I'm fuckin all right, okay? Jesus" he murmured again but Lori turned around to look at her husband.

"Rick, I think Connor's not feeling well. Something's wrong."

T-Dog turned around and looked at him. Rick eyed him in the rear-view mirror and sighed.

"This isn't our only problem."

"Why, what's wrong?"

"We've been riding red for the past hour." Rick said and Connor snickered tiredly.

"Aye, me too."

"Better make sure we don't get forgot" T-Dog said and Rick nodded.

He honked and Daryl slowed down in front of them. They all got out of the car. It took Connor quite some time to get out but he tried to hurry because he saw T-Dog and Lori coming for him. He didn't want their help. He didn't want them to know. Rick ran for Daryl who still sat on his bike.

"You out?" he asked and Rick nodded.

"Running on fumes."

Connor staggered after them and sat down on the hood of their car.

"We can't stay here" Maggie said and Glenn looked at her.

"We can't all fit in one car."

"We'll have to make a run for some gas in the morning" Rick said and Carol frowned.

"Spend the night here?"

"I'm freezing" Carl said and Connor looked up.

"You can have my coat. I'm melting" he said and got rid off his jacket.

He was glad he was wearing a sweater so people wouldn't see the wound. He folded his arms just to make sure. Carl put his coat on with a smile on his face.

"We'll build a fire, yeah?" Lori said and Daryl nodded.

"Connor and I will go out looking for firewood. Stay close."

Connor looked up and paled at the thought.

_I can't do this. I can't fuckin take it anymore. I just wanna sleep._

Daryl frowned when he saw the look on his face.

"Only got so many arrows. How you doing on ammo?" Daryl said and looked Rick.

"Not enough" the policeman just said and Daryl turned to look at Connor.

"You?"

The Irishman tried to concentrate but couldn't really do so.

"I ..I dunno. Not much."

"We can't just sit here with our asses hanging out" Maggie said and Herschel growled.

"Watch your mouth. Everyone stop panicking and listen to Rick."

Daryl approached Connor and sat down next to him. He stared at his friend for a while and frowned. Connor tried not to look at him and pretended to reload his gun. It was impossible to do so because his arm hurt and his hands shook violently.

"I'm askin yah once more. What's wrong with yah?"

"I'm fuckin fine, okay?" Connor spat and looked at his friend.

They both just stared at each other until Rick spoke.

"All right, we'll set up a perimeter. In the morning we'll find gas and some supplies. We'll keep pushing on."

"Glenn and I can make a run now, try and scrounge up some gas" Maggie said but Rick shook his head.

"No, we stay together. God forbid something happens and people get stranded without a car."

"Rick, we're stranded now" Glenn said and the policeman nodded.

"I know it looks bad, we've all been through hell and worse but at least we found each other."

Connor looked at Daryl then. Rick didn't know it, but that sentence meant more to him than to any of them. Because it was true. Because it summed them up. Connor had been through hell after losing his brother and getting bit. Daryl had been through hell with his family and losing Merle. But they'd found each other. Not only today. He took a deep breath and tried to fight tears. _Oh Christ, yer nat one of that lot. You won't cry like a fuckin baby now._ He looked at his friend and swallowed. _Jesus fuckin Christ, Daryl. I don't wanna die._

The hunter turned his head and looked at his friend with a frown.

"I wasn't sure..I really wasn't but we did. We're together. We keep it that way" Rick went on and Connor snickered sadly.

_If only that were true._

"We'll find shelter somewhere. There's gotta be a place" the policeman said and Glenn approached him.

"Rick, look around. Okay? There's walkers everywhere. They're migrating or something."

"There's gotta be a place not just where we hole up, but that we fortify. Hunker down. Pull ourselves together. Build a life for each other. I know it's out there. We just have to find it "he spat and they all looked at him.

Connor grabbed a smoke and tried to lit it shakily. It took him longer than usual. He saw how Daryl looked at him again but the hunter wouldn't say a word.

"Even if we do find a place and we think it's safe, we can never be sure. For how long? Look what happened with the farm. We fooled ourselves into thinking that that was safe" Maggie responded and her father looked at her.

"We won't make that mistake again."

"We'll make camp tonight. Over there, get on the road at the break of day" Rick said and pointed at an old lithic watergate by a small lake just off the road.

"Does this feel right to you?" Carol asked Daryl who turned around and looked at her.

"What if walkers come through or another group like Randall's?" Beth asked Rick who didn't answer.

Suddenly Daryl spoke when he remembered something.

"You know we found Randall, right? He'd turned but he wasn't bit."

Connor grabbed his arm when he heard this word and sighed shakily. He wondered when he'd turn.  
He was sure about one thing though: He wouldn't make it through this night.

Rick stared at Daryl in surprise and the others kept asking him questions.

"What the hell happened?" Lori asked and Connor sighed.

"Shane killed Randall. Just like he always wanted ta."

Lori looked at Rick with a frown.

"And then the herd got him?"

It was quiet for a while and Rick just stared down until he finally answered.

"We're all infected."

"What?" Daryl asked in disbelief and Connor swallowed.

He hated how they kept talking about that topic. He didn't want to think about it nonstop for the last couple of hours of his life.

"At the CDC Jenner told me. Whatever it is, we all carry it."

They all just stared at him in disbelief until Carol came closer.

"And you never said anything?"

"Would it have made a difference?" Rick said and shrugged.

"You knew this whole time?" Glenn asked and Rick snapped.

"How could I have known for sure? You saw how crazy that mo..."

"That is not your call. Okay, when I found out about the walkers in the barn, I told, for the good of everyone" Glenn said and Rick shook his head.

"Well, I thought it best that people didn't know. Now get our things and guns together. Connor, Daryl, you get some firewood."

Daryl nodded and nudged Connor.

"Come on, let's go." he murmured and headed for the woods.

Carl gave Connor his pea coat back once he wore his father's jacket.

The Irishman took a deep breath and followed Daryl after a moment, stumbling and groaning with every step.


	38. Veritas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh only two chapters left after that ;_;
> 
>  **setting:** episode 13 " _Beside The Dying Fire_ "

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They were deep in the woods by now. Daryl turned around from time to time to check on Connor. Mostly because he could hear how his groans and moans got louder with every minute. They'd been collecting firewood for only ten minutes when the hunter had enough and stopped walking.

"What is wrong with yah?" he spat and Connor looked at him in surprise.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead and shrugged.

"I'm just really tired man. And the gunshot wound hurts" he murmured.

His voice was lacking strength already.

"Pull yourself together. We need t' find enough wood before it's getting dark."

He was pissed at Connor because he wouldn't tell him what was wrong. It always drove him crazy to see the Irishman like that. Hurt. In pain. Since the day they'd first met. Daryl shook his head angrily and walked on only to stop when he heard Connor retch. He turned around in surprise and saw the Irishman head down, with his hands on his knees. Suddenly he retched again and started throwing up blood. Daryl threw the wood away and rushed to help him.

"Jesus, just tell me, what is wrong with you? Let me help yah!" he shouted but Connor just coughed and threw up even more blood.

Daryl was horrified when he saw all the blood.

The Irishman staggered and almost fell over, so he grabbed him by his shoulders to hold him steady.

"Connor? Just..come on man, you're scaring the crap outta me" Daryl said and Connor wiped his mouth after a moment.

He gasped and looked up. It shocked his friend even more because his face and mouth were bloody and he was so very pale all of a sudden.

"I couldn't find 'em" Connor murmured and Daryl frowned.

He still held Connor tight by his shoulders.

"Who?"

"Beth and Patricia. Behind the farmhouse when we were looking fer Carl."

He retched again and took a deep breath. He took a couple of deep breaths and squeezed his eyes shut in pure agony.

"What's the point in all this? Stop changing the topic and tell me what's wrong!" Daryl shouted and Connor growled.

"I ain't changing the topic."

"Stop talking crap then and tell me."

Connor shook his head and ended up throwing up blood again. He groaned and held his belly in pain.

"I'm too fuckin scared man" he croaked and Daryl frowned.

"Of what?"

"The truth" Connor answered and looked at the tattoo on his finger.

The arm that was causing him to throw up his guts now.

"Just fuckin tell me man. I'm just as scared as yah."

The Irishman swallowed.

"Can I show you something?"

"You don't need t'ask, silly."

Connor took a deep breath and grabbed the sleeve of his pea coat to lift it up. He then removed the towel he'd wrapped around the bite and showed Daryl his arm. The hunter just stared at the wound. He was petrified.

_No, that ain't happening._

He could see the marks, the bloody infected flesh, the blackened veins all around the wound. Connor sniffed.

"When I went back to the house a walker attacked me. We fell down, he right on top af me. I managed ta grab my gun but a gunshot startled me an I lost grip af him."

He pulled the sleeve back down and shook his head.

"I was too slow. I shot it dead but it was too fuckin late."

Connor looked up slowly and waited for his friend to say something, but Daryl just stood there. The hunter just stared at his arm in disbelief.

After a moment he pushed Connor away and turned around. The Irishman stumbled, but managed to get hold of himself. He turned around to look at Daryl with a frown. The hunter kept walking up and down for a moment and glared at Connor from time to time.

"I just need a second to process this" he growled and Connor put his hands in his pockets.

"Look, I know it's shit but.."

Daryl darted forward and interrupted him. He started shouting at him.

" _Why_?! Why the fuck now?!"

He shoved Connor again and got even more furious.

"Why **you**?!" he yelled and turned around again.

He grabbed his hair and shook his head.

"It's ok...all yer screaming isn't gonna make it any better" Connor murmured and Daryl turned around again.

He looked so hurt, so furious, so mad. He was mad at those stupid women the Irishman had went looking for. Mad at that stupid walker who'd bit his best friend. Mad at Connor for being so incredibly, incredibly stupid. Mad at the world. For taking t _hat_ from him.

He approached Connor once more and shoved him again. Part of him wanted to beat his face bloody for that.

He was _so angry._

"Don't you tell me to calm down! What do you fuckin know!"

"I told you I was scared af the truth" Connor just said quietly.

Daryl snorted.

"Well, there you have it, stupid. What did you think it would be like?"

"I fuckin know what it's like! What's going ta happen! I'm gonna start chewing on me own guts in a couple af hours, I'll be drownin in my own fuckin blood! I'll suffocate and burn up at the same time! Sooner or later the fever and pain's gonna kill me! My whole fuckin body's gettin poisoned with this shit right now! Have you got any idea how fuckin _much_ it really hurts? So don't you tell me anything about knowing what it's like! The real truth here is that we can't do _anything_ about it! So if someone's got a reason ta start yelling, it's gotta be me, don't you think?!" Connor yelled at and and gasped for air once he'd finished.

Daryl just stared at him for a moment. When he saw blood running down Connor's chin he snapped again.

"Yer like a brother to me! What kind of cruel, fucked up egoistic bastard are yah t'do something like that to people?"

He kicked the dirt and started walking up and down again.

"Cos really, Merle and my stupid father ain't nothing compared t'yah sick shit. I mean, was it fun, stumbling right into my life and fuckin me up for weeks, makin me believe I'm worth a damn? Yeah right, you just come, fuck everyone up, make them like yah, care about yah, only that you can be some selfish fucker and opt out the moment it gets a little fuckin chaotic?"

He shoved Connor again.

"I told yah to watch yer stupid ass! All you had to do was keep your promise and do what your stupid brother and I asked yah to!" Daryl shouted and grabbed the Irishman's arm to look at the bite once more.

Connor winced and tried to get him off but Daryl wouldn't let go.

"Now look at yah."

They both just looked at each other for a while until Connor swallowed and Daryl shook his head.  
He let go of Connor. The Irishman held his wounded arm tight and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry.'s all I can say. I'm so fucking sorry, but I'm gonna die. And you need ta live with it."

Daryl snorted and turned around to walk off.

"Would you please stop it now? I haven't got much time left Daryl. And I'd rather spent it not fuckin fighting with you."

His friend turned around and glared at him.

"And now yer askin me t'act like it's alright."

"Take it as my dying wish?"

Daryl approached him and stared him down.

"You keep your mouth shut. You've done enough already."

Daryl walked past him and growled.

"We need to find firewood. This conversation is over."

* * *

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't be mad at Connor forever. Because it was getting worse and worse. He ended up carrying all the firewood on his own and the Irishman kept staggering after him, throwing up blood every once in a while. He knew it was cruel to let him keep walking. He knew he was torturing Connor like that but he was scared of returning to camp. Because then everything would fall into place. He knew Connor would lie down and wouldn't get up anymore. He knew his friend was going to _die_ there. After 15 minutes of walking he couldn't do it anymore. Connor was panting and groaning in pain behind him and it felt like someone was stabbing him with every breath he took. He knew Connor would follow him until his knees gave in, so it was on him to stop it. He stopped walking after a moment and took a deep breath. Daryl knew that he had to look past his anger. For the sake of his friend. He turned around to look at Connor who held on to a tree and tried to catch breath.

"So this is it" he said quietly and snorted.

"Yer really gonna die."

Connor looked up and nodded after a moment.

"Aye."

Daryl chewed on his lower lip and shook his head gently.  
He felt a big lump in his throat and walked back to grab Connor's arm.

"Let's get yah back to the camp."

Connor groaned when they started walking again.

"It's alright. Just a little bit more and yah can lie down and rest" Daryl murmured but Connor shook his head.

"I don' want to."

Daryl nodded.

"I know. But you've got to."


	39. Aequitas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so we've reached _that_ chapter. Just letting you know: I had to stop writing, _twice_ , because I couldn't even see what I was writing . I CRIED LIKE A BABY OK. I regret nothing. No, I regret _everything_. Because this chapter is so. fucking _.cruel._
> 
>  **setting:** episode 13 " _Beside The Dying Fire_ "

* * *

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It was dark outside when they finally returned to camp. He saw a campfire, so Glenn and T-Dog had managed to get some firewood as well.  
When the group saw Connor and Daryl they all got up in surprise. Connor was unconscious. Daryl had carried him the last couple of meters.

"What happened?" Rick asked and Daryl took a deep breath.

"Passed out on our way back. Carol, would you give me a couple of blankets and lie them down by that wall over there?"

Carol nodded and got up to do so. Daryl carried his friend over to the stone wall and waited for the blankets. Once everything was prepared he lay Connor down and looked at his friend for a moment. The group gathered around the unconscious man.

"Herschel, you should take a look at his shoulder now" Lori said and Daryl shook his head.

"It ain't his shoulder. He got bit yesterday" Daryl said and just looked at his friend.

"What?" they all asked in shock and looked at Daryl and Connor.

The hunter just nodded.

"He was too scared of telling us."

It was quiet for a while until Carl started crying.

"Is he dead?" Glenn asked and Daryl shook his head.

He just stared at Connor's face.

"Just unconscious. I doubt that he'll wake up again though."

He was surprised how much it _hurt_ to see Connor like that _._ He was surprised how _shocked_ he was. Daryl sat down next to his friend and put the blanket around his shoulders. He could still hear him breathing. _Just wake up and start laughing at me. Or tell some of yer stupid Irish jokes. Just, fucking do_ _ **something.**_ When he looked up he saw Rick standing there next to him.

"You know what needs to be done" he said quietly and Daryl glared at him.

"If yah plan on shooting him in the head _now_ , you'll have to shoot me first."

The both looked at each other for a while and Rick shook his head.

"I just wanted to let you know. Not yet. You're right. But still. The moment he turns.."

"If you've got nothin else t'say might as well just leave us the fuck alone" Daryl growled an Rick looked at him.

He nodded after a while.

"Look, I'm sorry Daryl.."

"Just go! Everyone. Leave us alone!" Daryl yelled and looked at Connor again, somewhat hoping his friend would wake up one final time.

* * *

Connor woke up a couple of hours later and started throwing up again. He was bathed in sweat and started shivering. He searched their surroundings in horror only to see Daryl right beside him. The hunter had quite a hard time keeping it together himself. It wasn't the first time he saw someone turn and die because of this mad disease, but seeing Connor like that.. it was too much to handle. His friend would start screaming every once in a while, whenever the pain got worse. Daryl tried to keep him steady and stop him from shaking whenever the cramps returned, but there wasn't that much to do. There was no way to stop it, and it was only getting worse every time the cramps hit. The Irishman calmed down after a moment and asked for water, only to spit it out coughing and throwing up all over again. He focused after a while and looked at Daryl.

"Are you going to be ok?" he asked and Daryl just snorted.

He took a deep breath and looked away. Some members of the group were already sleeping.

Rick just kept staring at them. Staring and waiting.

"They want me t' kill yah" Daryl said quietly and turned his head to look at his friend.

"Put yah out of yer misery and all that crap. Like a fuckin dog."

Connor took a deep breath and sighed shakily.

"Well they've got a point there. Misery and all that."

Daryl snorted.

"Yah can't ask me t'do this."

"Nat the first time you kill a walker, Daryl" Connor murmured and Daryl glared at him.

"You ain't a walker."

He sighed and moved his fingers through his hair.

"Rick might be alright with killing his best friend. I ain't."

Connor smiled tiredly but ended up coughing again.

"'s there anything else I can do for yah?" Daryl asked after a while.

He was tired. Of everything. Seeing Connor like that. Feeling that much pain. Watching his best friend die. Watching everything fall apart.

"Actually yes" Connor said and nodded towards his pea coat.

"There's a pen in that pocket. And the picture of me and Murphy" he mumbled and closed his eyes again.

Daryl frowned and got his pea coat.

"What do yah need a fuckin pen for now? Gonna write yer last will now?"

Connor snickered and groaned in pain because it hurt.

"Just gimme te pen and te picture" Connor murmured.

He felt dizzy and sick because the pain was getting worse and worse.

Daryl handed him the things he had asked for. Connor looked at the photograph and smiled.

"St. Paddy's 1997. Two years before we became the saints. Happiest time af my life."

Daryl took a deep breath and just looked Connor who started coughing. He looked up after a moment and smiled at Daryl.

"You know, when Murphy died I thought I'd never ever be happy again."

Daryl snorted.

"Yeah. Seen it and heard it more than once."

"But ye know what? I was wrong."

His friend frowned.

"Have yah lost it now?"

Connor snickered and shook his head.

"Remember the day before yesterday? On the rooftop?"

Daryl nodded.

"What about it?"

"That was just like St. Patty's 1997."

"I don't remember any beer and Irish crap going on there."

The Irishman smirked.

"Ain't talking about the beer or the party. I'm talking about how I felt."

Daryl just looked at him for a while.

"Happy?"

Connor smiled and nodded.

"Aye."

The moment was destroyed when he had yet another fit. He suddenly squeezed his eyes shut started screaming again. A moment later there was blood coming out of his mouth once more. He gasped and coughed and Daryl tried to hold him steady and got rid of the blood.

"Give me yer right hand" Connor croaked and Daryl frowned.

"What for?"

"Just do it! Christ, fuckin hurry. Ain't gonna last much longer." Connor shouted and Daryl gave him his hand.

The Irishman grabbed it and started writing on his hand. As soon as Daryl saw the first letter he knew what he was going to write.  
He tried not to look at his hand and studied Connor's face instead.  
The Irishman looked so tired. So hurt. So broken.

"Stop it" Daryl demanded and Connor shook his head.

He kept writing with shaky hands. The hunter got worried when he heard how his friend's breathing changed. Sped up. Got heavier.

"I think you should stop wasting yer energy like that. Yah need to rest, Connor. Really..just.. just stop now. Come on, man" he said.

Connor let out a relieved sigh when he finished the last letter. The Irishman let go of his friend's hand and smiled.

"Okay. My gun. In the bag."

Daryl shook his head.

"No."

"Aye. Take it. Doesn't matter which one."

After a moment of just staring at his friend Daryl gave in and opened Connor's bag to get one of the guns. He stared at the weapon.  
The Irishman suddenly grabbed his hands so they held the gun together.

"Listen, that's important. You've...you've gotta take that gun. _That_ gun...Don't ye fuckin dare taking an other gun. _That_ gun. 't's very important."

Daryl just stared at him and shook his head.

"I said you ain't dyin as long as I'm around. Won't do this."

"Af course..you will..." Connor murmured and closed his eyes tiredly.

He couldn't keep them open any longer.

This made Daryl snap.

"Yah fuckin promised you'd stay alive!" he spat and heard how Rick came over.

"Did" Connor answered and closed his eyes once more.

_He was just too tired. So scared. He just wanted to sleep._

Daryl slapped him to wake him up.

"You survive, yah understand?"

"Daryl.." he heard Rick say but ignored him.

Connor opened his eyes because of the slap and smiled tiredly.

"Thanks.."

Daryl snorted angrily.

"Yer thanking me for a slap? Listen now,yah stupid leprechaun, you ain't dying, you hear me?"

"Thanks fer savin me" Connor croaked and smiled.

It felt like a stab to Daryl's heart. But he couldn't say anything because Connor started coughing again. Only that he wouldn't stop this time. It got worse and worse with every minute until he started shaking. He still clung to Daryl's hand the entire time until he suddenly stopped moving. Daryl could feel how he lost his grip and then Connor's head fell to the side.

"Connor?" he asked after a moment and stared at his friend's face.

His eyes were still open and stared up at the night sky.

Open. Unfocused. _Dead._

Rick placed a hand on Daryl's shoulder and sighed.

"I'm sorry" he heard him say.

But Daryl just stared at Connor's bloody face. He grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him angrily.

"Wake up yah prick" he demanded.

When Connor wouldn't answer he shook him even more.  
"Wake the fuck up, Connor" he spat and considered slapping him again.

Connor's head shook with every move because there was no life force holding it in place now. It was just an empty shell.

And his eyes were _still_ open. Unfocused. _Dead._

"I said wake the fuck up!" Daryl yelled and Rick tried to move him away from Connor's body.

"It's too late Daryl."

And then he saw the letters on his index finger. He just stared at his hand which lay there on Connor's chest.  
The letters were wavy and hard to read but Daryl knew what they said. What they meant. And he knew what Connor's dying wish was.

_Aequitas._

_**Justice. Equality.** _

_Christ._

He needed to sit down. For a second he forgot how to breath. He just stared at the Irishman's face. Connor MacManus.  
His only and best friend in the world.

Dead.

Bit. By some flesh eating monster. Dead. Because he hadn't been there to help him and cover his ass. Dead, because he'd just driven off. In the end it had always been his fault whenever Connor had been hurt. And now he was dead. Because of him. He looked at the gun in his hand. He knew that the gun had belonged to his brother. _Murphy._ Daryl knew that Connor had shot his brother with his own gun. And now he wanted him to shoot him with Murphy's gun.  
Justice. Equality. _Aequitas._

So this was the promise the MacManus twins had made. And Connor wanted him to end it. To finish it. He stared at the gun and then looked at Connor. He couldn't bear seeing those dead eyes any longer so he placed a hand on his face and closed his eyes. He then pointed the gun at his head and placed a finger on the trigger. He had killed countless walkers, but no he couldn't do it. Couldn't pull the trigger. He'd hurt, beaten, and insulted that man so many times and now he just couldn't physically do it. Couldn't hurt Connor like _that_.

"You want me to do it?" he heard someone say and looked up.

Rick was still standing beside him. He'd forgotten all about him. And the others. He heard Carl and Lori crying. Daryl shook his head.

"Just..please leave us alone for a bit" he said quietly.

He was surprised how broken he sounded. He was surprised how much it _hurt._ Rick nodded and patted Daryl's shoulder.

The policeman left so it were just Connor and Daryl again.

"Yah going t'wake up now?" he asked and waited.

Part of him wanted it to be some sort of sick joke. He wanted Connor to open his eyes and start laughing at him.  
Calling him names for believing some shit like this. After a moment he took Connor's hand and squeezed it.  
But the Irishman wouldn't squeeze back.  
His hand was cold and stiff.

"Where the _fuck_ were yah all the time" Daryl murmured and shook his head angrily.

"With all yer saint shit. All them years I felt like shit because of my family. All them years I never had anyone. No buddies, no one but Merle.  
Where the fuck where yah."

But Connor didn't answer.

_Because Connor was dead._

"Why didn't we meet earlier, yah stupid prick. Why the hell didn't I get more time t'get to know yah."

He got angry when Connor wouldn't answer.

"Yah were the brother I've always wanted t'have, now smarten up and wake the fuck up now!" he yelled.

He was so angry. So furious. So utterly utterly _heartbroken._

Daryl buried his face in his hands and shook his head with an angry sigh.

After a moment he looked up again. Somewhat hoping that Connor had opened his eyes by now.

But nothing happened.

_Because Connor was dead._

* * *

Daryl sat next to Connor's body for hours.

He wouldn't sleep, he wouldn't move, he wouldn't cry, he wouldn't do anything but stare at his friend's face.

Some members of the group came over to talk to him. Say goodbye to Connor. Tell him how sorry they were.

Tried to talk him into ending it by shooting his friend dead.

It made Daryl snap once more. He got up and started yelling at them. Told them to leave them be.

* * *

After 3 hours, 47 minutes and 22 seconds Connor's hands started twitching and moving. His chest began to rise and fall a moment later. Daryl wasn't ready for this. He didn't want to see Connor like that. Zero tolerance for walkers. That's what he had said once. But how could he? He couldn't call him a walker or geek, because this was _Connor._

The Irishman opened his eyes by sunrise. Only that the blue in his eyes was gone. They were gray and bloody. _Dead_ eyes.

"Hey Connor" Daryl said quietly.

Now that he saw how his friend was waking up he realized that he'd been waiting for _that._ He had just wanted to see his friend moving. Breathing. Just _once more._ Except it wasn't Connor anymore. Daryl took the gun and pointed it at his friend's head. He could read the letters the Irishman had written on his hand. _Aequitas._ The last word Connor had written in his life.

"I'm sorry I don't know yer prayer" Daryl said and the thing that had used to be Connor, that wore _his_ clothes and had _his_ face, snarled and growled.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save yah" Daryl went on.

When Connor reached out for him and placed a hand on his chest, right where his heart was, Daryl pulled the trigger.  
Connor was thrown back and fell to the ground.

"I hope you've got yer justice now " Daryl whispered and stared at the lifeless body.

When he looked down on Connor he saw that he was still holding the picture of him and his brother in the bar.  
There were bloodstains all over it because of the gunshot wound. He saw how the blood was running down the picture, slowly staining Connor and Murphy's grinning faces.

"I hope you're with yer Murphy now."

And as he spoke he tasted salt on his lips.


	40. Damnation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would loooooove you to death if you could post a small review if you like. Doesn't matter if you're just a guest or a AO3 user, if you want to yell at me for writing such a shitty story and complain your head off (you better not! haha, just kidding), or if you just just want to say a couple of nice works...just let me know what you thought of this fic! I live for reviews & feedback! If you liked this fic then you can also give the sequel to that one a try. I'm thinking about making the later chapters of that one shippy, but I'm not sure yet. The sequel is called "Damnation" and can be found both on here and on ff.net
> 
> Anyhoo, Thank you so much y'all. And I'm sorry for breaking your heart.

Daryl insisted on a decent burial.  
He dug the hole himself and yelled at everyone who tried to help or talk to him. He carried Connor's body inside the grave and wiped the sweat off his forehead. For a long while he just stared at this friend. There he was, lying in some dirty hole. By some lake in the middle of nowhere. The place was quite beautiful and peaceful but it didn't really matter. Because Daryl felt like he was dead inside. Numb.

It took him a while to grab the sticks he'd remodeled into some sort of shovel. He lifted it up but froze again. It was so hard to cover Connor with soil. He didn't want him to go. The others wanted to move on because it was dangerous. They didn't want to rush him but they asked him to finish it nevertheless. Because they didn't have time for proper grieving. Daryl took a deep breath and started digging again. After a couple of minutes Connor's body disappeared underneath a heap of earth. Daryl kept staring at his hand the whole time. The letters were fading because of the sweat. He wiped it off and tried not to smudge the word.

 _Aequitas_.

The only thing he had left of _him_. His last word.

The irony. It meant justice. Was this justice? Because it didn't feel like it. It was the opposite. It _wasn't_ fair _._

When the hunter finished digging he put the shovel away and knelt down next to the grave to place the two rosaries and the picture on top of it. For a while he just stared at their smiling faces. For the first time in his life he started praying. Praying for Connor and that he was wherever he wanted to be. He prayed that Connor and Murphy MacManus were together again. Then he started praying for himself. Because he was all on his own again. Alone in this godless world. He knew that he hadn't just buried his best friend, but also a big part of himself. His heart. His last bit of humanity. Because Connor had taken it with him.

Daryl took the picture back and put it in his pocket. He needed something to hold on to. Just _something._

Because he knew the truth now. The Irishman had told him that he'd been scared of the truth and now he knew why.

What it meant for _him._

The truth was that Connor's death was his _damnation._

Back in the old days, before the dead started walking, most people had been scared of death. But here it was, the ugly truth.  
The world as it was now. Cruel and painful. They just had to keep going. Hoping for the best. Looking for shelter. There wasn't much left.

_This is why it's called survival._

They just had to keep fighting until the very end. The end that was even more painful and cruel. He'd seen it himself today.

What a fool he'd been. To actually believe that it could last.

To actually believe everything would get better. Because that's what he'd thought when he'd first met Connor. When they'd become _friends._

He got up and walked back to the group.

Connor's death had made him understand.

_There is no hope. No joy. No happiness._

_Life_ meant damnation. Only _death_ meant salvation.

_**The end.** _


End file.
